


Where One Fell

by Revasnaslan



Series: Where One Fell Verse [1]
Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Ableism, Abusive Relationships, Alien Biology, Alien Culture, Alternate Universe, Angst, Character Death, Character Study, Emotional Abuse, Gen, Illness, Mind Control, Physical Abuse, Possessive Behavior, Prime and Hordak are Blood Brothers, Speculative, Villain Protagonist, cloning, threats of genocide, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-16
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:27:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 54,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22276336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Revasnaslan/pseuds/Revasnaslan
Summary: Prince Anillis Kur had barely been of age when he had ascended to the throne, following the rather sudden death of his father. An already shaky transition had only been made all the more complicated by Anillis being left to raise his baby brother, Prince Hec-Tor, on his own. While in time, he began to make strides, expanding the empire that had been left for him, not a day went by where Anillis did not worry over his brother.He had already lost so much. He wasn’t going to lose Hec-Tor too.
Relationships: Hordak & Horde Prime (She-Ra)
Series: Where One Fell Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1679779
Comments: 223
Kudos: 77





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> tfw you really wanted to read some baby hordak content, but the fandom wasn't delivering, so you had to do it yourself, and then it accidentally became overrun by angst, character study, and fridge horror. i've actually been working on this fic since november, around a week or so after S4 dropped, because i was struck by the idea of hordak and prime being blood brothers, rather than clone and progenitor, and how that would play into hordak's backstory. so i basically took the idea and ran with it. i actually would be unsurprised if we got that kind of reveal in canon tbh...
> 
> a n y w a y, this fic is gonna be a ride so strap in (:
> 
> also please tell me if i missed a tag or something because i really tried to think of everything i’d need to tag but one might’ve slipped through the cracks

Night had fallen—about as much as it actually could—aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ . Starlight streamed into the Emperor’s Suite through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a luminous glow across the bedroom that caught on the pristine white adorning nearly every surface of the room. From the bedsheets to the upholstery of the couches to the panels covering the walls, the color white was an inescapable constant within the Emperor’s Suite, only broken by small flashes of black, citrine green, and the barest hints of silver.

Horde Prime Anillis Kur lingered on the edge of waking—almost asleep, yet not quite there—with his back to the windows. It had been a rather trying day for him, and quite frankly, he was too young to feel so as exhausted as he did. Multiple long and drawn out meetings that he could only have described as ‘dull beyond compare’ had eaten up the entirety of his morning. He had hardly been allowed the chance to breathe before being handed one of the largest stacks of mundane paperwork that he had ever seen since assuming the throne. His only solace the entire day had been the knowledge he’d get to pass out once it was all over and the night cycle on board the  _ Velvet Glove _ had finally hit.

And yet, sleep was eluding him, much as he  _ wanted _ to fall asleep.

The relative silence of his room was broken by the faint  _ hiss _ of a door sliding along its track. In his half-awake state, it took Prime a moment to figure out that the door opening led to the Imperial Creche, rather than the main hallways. Mere weeks ago, the Creche had been left unused and empty. Traditionally, it was a living space for the younger children of the Emperor, where they would live before moving to personal rooms as they near adolescence. Prime had spent most of his formative years living there alongside his governess, as he had not had any siblings to share it with at the time. While he was not currently married himself, and thus, did not have any legitimate children, the Creche was finally seeing use now.

Tiny footsteps hurried across the pristine, marbled floor, as a certain little one scurried over to the edge of the bed. Prime almost smiled despite his half-asleep state… however, he would have been far more amused had it not sounded as though his baby brother was alone. From what he could hear, neither of the pup’s Minders had followed him.

“Ani!” came a hushed little whisper from his bedside. “Ani, wake up!”

When Prime cracked one of his eyes open, he was met with the sight of two big, glowing red eyes as Hec-Tor peeked up over the edge of the bed. He must have just rolled out of bed, with the how messy the crest of white atop his head was, falling into his face. Even standing on the tips of his toes, the lower half of his face wasn’t even visible, he was still so small. When Hec-Tor noticed that Prime had woken up, his ears perked, and his pupils blew out from little slivers to near perfect circles.

“What are you doing up?” Prime asked as he propped himself up on his elbows. “You should be  _ resting _ , little one.”

Hec-Tor whined and his ears drooped till the tips were nearly brushing his shoulders. Then, he reached out, digging his tiny, needle sharp talons into the sheets and tried to haul himself up onto the bed. It would not have been a problem ordinarily. By evolutionary design, pups were built to be hardy and take short falls with little damage to themselves, as their bones were extremely flexible and not liable to breakage.

But Hec-Tor was not like ordinary pups.

When he realized what Hec-Tor was trying to do, Prime reached out and caught hold of Hec-Tor by the back of his shirt before lifting him the rest of the way so he wouldn’t fall. Carefully, he cradled Hec-Tor in his arms, allowing his baby brother to settle. Hec-Tor immediately became fixated on playing with Prime’s fingers, mesmerized by watching the starlight from the nearby window catch off of his talons. 

“Where are your Minders, little one?” Prime asked, tilting his head to the side as he watched Hec-Tor.

Hec-Tor glanced up at him with wide eyes—innocent and not having put together that he had done something wrong at all. The tips of his ears twitched before he pointed back to the door that led to the Creche. “There,” he said simply.

Prime sighed in exasperation. “Hec-Tor… we talked about, yes?” he asked, taking his hand from Hec-Tor’s grasp to reach out and smooth the pup’s snow white hair away from where it had fallen into his face. “The Creche is where you are going to be sleeping now that you’re older…”

Hec-Tor pouted, and his ears drooped in disappointment.

“Oh, come now,” Prime chided, though there was no real bite to his tone. “There is no reason to pout like that… you still see me every day.”

“Not today!” Hec-Tor complained as the tips of his ears twitched in annoyance.

“… is that why you snuck out of bed?” Prime asked.

Hec-Tor didn’t answer, averting his eyes to where his hands were resting in his lap. The tips of his ears flushed a dull blue as he seemed to realize he had been figured out. Then, before Prime could say anything else, Hec-Tor peeked up at him, almost tentatively. “Just for tonight?” he finally asked.

When Prime had been around Hec-Tor’s age, he had asked the same thing of their parents, although he had only been allowed to stay once or twice—their father had always been rather strict about imposing such rules. The Creche was a space intended for dozens of children to cohabit together. Otherwise it was lonely and dark, even with a governess or Minder there to make it feel a little less empty. He knew that this was difficult for Hec-Tor, much as it was for him, but…

But Hec-Tor was staring up at him with wide eyes, lower lip quivering as if he was going to cry if he was sent back to the Creche…

“Very well,” Prime finally said, smiling fondly as he lightly threaded his talons through Hec-Tor’s hair. “Just for tonight.”

Thankfully, Hec-Tor seemed content with that, as he settled in Prime’s arms again with a soft trilling chirp. There was a heaviness in his eyes, but he did not seem intent on falling asleep just yet. And Hec-Tor could be _ very _ stubborn when he did not want to do something—or even when he did. For a pint-sized pup, he had a remarkable amount of tenacity. It would make him a fine general when he was older…

He tucked the last flock of Hec-Tor’s unruly hair back into place. “Do you want to hear a story before—”

“The vanishing planet!” Hec-Tor said before Prime could even finish his sentence.

Prime blinked owlishly at him, startled by how quickly Hec-Tor had jumped to answer—although he knew he really should not have been surprised. The tale of the vanishing planet was a rather old story, a fairytale from a bygone era, long before the Empire’s inception. Nevertheless, Prime knew it by heart. It had been his favorite when he was Hec-Tor’s age, much like it was now Hec-Tor’s favorite.

“But you’ve heard that one hundreds of times, little one,” Prime pointed out with a teasing undertone to his voice. “Surely you’re bored of it by now?”

As Prime expected, Hec-Tor shook his head quickly with a soft  _ mm-mm _ .

Prime sighed dramatically. “Oh, if you insist.”

Hec-Tor stifled a laugh behind his tiny, taloned hands, red eyes shining bright in the dim light.

“Once upon a time, in a far off system, there was a planet,” Prime began, and Hec-Tor hung onto every word. “A bright and colorful place, inhabited by a simple folk who went about their lives undisturbed. The planet itself was said to be of great importance, magical to its very core. Of course, this meant that the planet was sought out by those who wished to harness the magic for their own purposes. However, the planet had a guardian—”

“The mystical warrior!” Hec-Tor chirped.

Prime tilted one of his ears, which twitched at the tip as he bit back a smile. “Yes, the mystical warrior was the planet’s sole guardian,” he continued. “It is said they could channel the planet’s magic through their sword, and they had been specially trained to protect the planet from those who sought to harm it.”

“Or take the magic,” Hec-Tor added.

“Yes, or take the magic,” Prime said, dipping his head in a curt nod.

“Where did it go?” Hec-Tor finally asked, tilting his head.

“Nobody knows,” Prime said. “The planet disappeared from amongst the stars, taking its magic and guardian along with it.”

“But someone could find it, right?”

Prime sighed heavily and looked up towards the ceiling of the Emperor’s Suite in exasperation. “Hec-Tor, it’s just a story. There is nothing to find.”

Hec-Tor pouted, rubbing one of his eyes with the heel of his hand. Then, he yawned wide, exposing bright red canines and his tongue. It seemed the story had done the trick, and Hec-Tor was finally settling down in spite of how stubborn he was to stay awake. “Are you sure?” he finally asked sleepily, eyelids drooping.

“Oh, little one,” Prime said softly as he began threading his talons through Hec-Tor’s crest again. “I’m the Emperor, I know everything. If there was a missing planet that was guarded by a mystical warrior, I would have found it already. Now, go to sleep…”

It did not take long for Hec-Tor to fall asleep after he had snuggled in. Soon, the silence of the Emperor’s Suite was broken only by the soft, sleepy chirps of a young pup finally getting the rest he needed. Prime continued stroking Hec-Tor’s hair, his gaze not straying from his baby brother. However, in spite of his outward ease, he remained on guard, listening for any signs of something potentially being amiss.

His ears flicked in the direction of the door to the Creche as it slid open, and a Minder rushed through.

“My Emperor!”

Prime glanced up from watching Hec-Tor sleep to meet the gaze of Hec-Tor’s primary minder, 099-0783. 

The face that stared back at him was similar to his own at a glance, but there were minute differences, if one took the time to look and observe. More pronounced cheekbones, a less angular jawline, larger eyes, a softer brow and nasal ridge, a lack of chin spikes. The spitting image of what Hec-Tor would look like when he was older and his facial masking had come in—assuming he grew stronger and lived long enough, at least. The only difference would have been the citrine green eyes that clearly marked 099-0783 as being completely subservient to Prime’s control.

099-0783 halted several feet away from the bed, eyes widening a fraction. Prime knew it must have been a terrifying image—him sitting in the shadows with his most prominent features being the harsh green glow of his eyes and his lips curling back into a snarl, revealing his bright canines. And then there was Hec-Tor, cradled close to his chest. Mercifully, Hec-Tor had not been woken by his Minder’s outburst, and he slept on.

“… allow me to return my Prince to the—” 099-0783 immediately fell silent when a harsh growl rose in the back of Prime’s throat. His shoulders stiffened as he flinched back in surprise.

“Would you care to explain yourself, 099-0783?” Prime questioned, his tone frigid as ice.

For a moment, 099-0783 was silent. His ears shifted back and twitched nervously against the sides of his head, betraying his unease. Then, he bowed his head, ears drooping. “I stepped away for a moment too long, my Emperor,” he said mutely. “Forgive my error.”

“It is fortunate that Prince Hec-Tor ended up in here with me,” Prime said, taking care not to raise his voice. He did not want to disturb Hec-Tor, after all. “He could have ended up in the halls  _ alone _ , in the middle of the night.”

As he spoke, he carefully rose from the bed, adjusting how he was carrying Hec-Tor so that the pup would still be comfortable. Hec-Tor yawned and stretched, stirring only briefly—Prime caught a sliver of his bright red eyes before he fell back asleep again and snuggled closer, oblivious to what was going on around him.

“Hec-Tor is  _ delicate _ ,” Prime continued as he crossed the room to loom over 099-0783, who stood nearly a head shorter than he was himself. “Surely you are aware of what happens when you fail to serve your Prince  _ properly _ .”

The cables that were always carefully woven in amongst Prime’s hair unlocked from their docks along his collar, raising into the air around his head with a faint underlying hiss. Although 099-0783’s shoulders gave the slightest of jerks, as if he meant to flinch back, he remained in place, eying the needles at the end of the cables warily. His mouth had become set in a hard line, his ears twitching nervously at the tips.

Then, 099-0783 bow his head. “Of course, my Emperor,” he said carefully. “It will not happen again.”

Prime’s eyes narrowed as his gaze lingered on the left side of 099-0783’s face, where scarring from claws and a talon guard lingered. The only reason 099-0783 still lived and breathed was because the Minder was one of the few people Hec-Tor wasn’t terrified of. The usefulness of such a trait had overruled Prime’s anger at the time.

“Since he is already here, Prince Hec-Tor will remain with me for the night,” Prime finally said. As he spoke, he began threading his talons through the snow white hair of Hec-Tor’s crest. Though he stayed asleep, Hec-Tor still let out the softest of chirps, snuggling deeper into Prime’s arms.

At the sound of Hec-Tor chirping, 099-0783 broke eye contact with Prime and instead glanced down at his charge. There was a flash of something in his expression—brow furrowing, ears giving the slightest of droops—before serenity replaced what had been there. He did not seem to know what to do now that his Emperor had explicitly told him that he was no longer needed for the night. After all, Minders were specifically conditioned to do one thing and one thing only.

“099-0783, what is your purpose?” Prime asked as he leaned down—closer than was strictly necessary, but it was enough to grab 099-0783’s attention and keep it.

“To serve my Prince, first and foremost,” 099-0783 said automatically. There was a stilted undertone to his voice, as though he was reading his words off a card he had been handed. “In doing so, I serve my Emperor. Should I fail in my endeavor, I have no purpose and my life is… is meaningless.” As he finished speaking, there was a shift in 099-0783’s voice, and his eyes widened a fraction as if he suddenly realized why Prime was asking him such a question.

Fortunately for 099-0783, Prime was still in the process of mulling over whether or not it was worth it to have him sent off to reconditioning. The clone barely flinched as one of the cables woven through Prime’s hair dusted across his cheek towards the base of his ear with the ever present threat of the needle on the very tip piercing skin. There was no need to be hasty, though. The agent held within the cables needed to be pumped directly into the central nervous system in order to have the intended affect. If he was injected, 099-0783 would have been rendered catatonic for several days until the agent had properly worked its way out of his system.

Then, Hec-Tor chirped softly in his sleep again, dragging Prime out of his musings. 

The injection process was painful and tedious, and clones had a tendency to scream before the catatonia kicked in. Sending 099-0783 away for reconditioning now would surely wake Hec-Tor up, and Prime did not want his baby brother to witness that.

“You are fortunate that he is present,” Prime said with an air of finality before rising back to his full height, and the cables returned to their docks. “Should you fail in your purpose again, I will have no other choice but to have you reconditioned,” he continued, leveling 099-0783 with a hard stare. Then, he waved his hand. “Dismissed.”

The clone bowed deeply at the waist, but said nothing in return. And then he bade a hasty retreat, pivoting on his heel and rushing from the room back into the creche, leaving Prime and Hec-Tor alone.

—

Since taking the throne several years ago, Prime had found that there was nothing more dull than a morning meeting.

He could endure them, of course. His father certainly would have expected him to, and he had been trained to do so since he had been rather young, barely older than Hec-Tor was now. Considering his father hadn’t decided to take him out of the line of succession—in spite of some unfortunate missteps he had undertaken in his youth—Prime figured he must have been doing something right before his father’s untimely passing.

For now, he lounged on the ornate throne that sat atop the dais at the very end of the throne room, backlit by the map that showcased his ever-expanding empire. Prime liked to believe that, were his father still alive, he would have marveled at the strides Prime had made since his ascension. Just behind the throne, he was flanked on either side by his Attendants—clones whose purpose was to personally serve the Emperor, although at times they were assigned to attend to visitors, particularly in the cases of diplomats of recently conquered territories.

Prime drummed his fingers impatiently against the arm of his throne, watching the door on the far side of the room for the arrival of an Attendant who had been assigned to serve the ‘senators’ from the recently conquered system of Hera. They were late, and Prime did  _ not _ appreciate being kept waiting.

His attention was momentarily pulled away from the opposite end of the throne room as he caught the sound of little footsteps darting across the dais behind the throne. One of the Attendants standing there shifted his stance, and although Prime could not see his expression when he tentatively probed the Attendant’s mind from afar, he found a lingering feeling of fondness and caught the flash of a memory—Hec-Tor as he disappeared into the shadows of the Attendant’s cape.

One of Prime’s ears gave an exasperated twitch as he frowned. Shifting in his seat, Prime leaned his weight against the arm of the throne, peering behind him. The Attendant standing there immediately noticed that he was being watched, and glanced up from watching Hec-Tor to meet Prime’s narrowed gaze. His ears twitched, making as if to shift back in a display of nervousness, although his features remained otherwise impassive. Hec-Tor, however, did not seem to notice Prime was staring at all.

“Hec-Tor,” Prime said, with an underlying sharpness in his voice. It came out harsher than he meant for it too, but it was enough to grab Hec-Tor’s attention. 

His gaze immediately snapped to meet Prime’s, and he wordlessly tilted his head to the side, as though he was confused about why Prime had suddenly spoken up. Prime saying his name was not enough to get him to move.

“The Attendants cannot perform their duties if you bother them,” Prime explained, before beckoning Hec-Tor over to him with a twitch of his ears. “Leave them be.”

Still Hec-Tor hesitated, remaining in the shadow of the Attendant’s cape. His tiny talons dug into the fabric, threatening to leave behind tears that would need tailoring. Before Prime could speak up again, however, the Attendant moved. He leaned down without a word, placed his hand against the space between Hec-Tor’s shoulder blades, and gave him a gentle, but firm nudge back in Prime’s direction. Hec-Tor glanced back at the Attendant, pouting in disappointment, but the Attendant merely gave him a small smile. Hec-Tor seemed to get the message then, and despite his earlier reservations, he turned and made his way back across the dais, where he allowed Prime to scoop him up. Another feeling of fondness flashed through the Attendant’s mind again—sharper and more clear this time—as he watched Hec-Tor go. Prime was almost shocked by the suddenness of it, as it manifested abruptly and disappeared almost as quickly as it had come. All that seemed to be left behind was a tangled mess of otherwise incomplete thoughts and feelings that had never been allowed to manifest fully.

Prime decided not to dwell on it, though, as he gave Hec-Tor a once-over. 

Though 099-0783 had been present that morning to help ensure that Hec-Tor’s appearance was acceptable, it had taken all of five minutes for Hec-Tor to find some way to mess himself up again. His robes—previously neat and orderly—were now ruffled and in need of straightening. His hair had become an absolute disaster, no doubt from his running around and getting under the Attendants’ feet. Somehow, he had even gotten a smudge of what seemed to be dirt on his cheek.

Prime clicked his tongue in the makings of disapproval. “Oh, little one… how did you get so rumpled?”

It was a question that Hec-Tor did not need to answer, of course. It was clear to Prime that 099-0783 had not been keeping a close enough on his charge before he had been dismissed for the morning. Although 099-0783 had been reluctant to remain in the Creche, with Prime keeping an eye on Hec-Tor, there was little need for the clone to accompany them. Besides, 099-0783 had plenty of tasks to keep himself occupied, as Minders knew how to do little else aside from domestic duties unless they were trained for a specific purpose. 099-0783’s fellow Minder, 010-1347, was Hec-Tor’s personal physician, for instance.

Hec-Tor did not end up answering his question at all, as it seemed Prime’s words had gone in one ear and come right out of the other. He had become distracted, glancing around the throne room as if searching for something, but he didn’t know exactly what it was he was looking for. Finally, his ears gave a frustrated flick and he pouted.

“Why are we here?” Hec-Tor asked, peering up at Prime.

It was not out of the ordinary for them to spend time together in the throne room—Hec-Tor often took his lunch here, where Prime could keep an eye on him and ensure he finished all of his food. However, they only occasionally spent mornings together in the throne room, and though Hec-Tor was young, he always managed to pick up on discrepancies in his schedule.

“I have a meeting this morning,” Prime said as he reached out to try and straighten Hec-Tor’s hair so that it would lay perfectly flat. Miraculously, Hec-Tor—not sleepy or having just woken up from a nap—actually sat still and allowed him to do so. “The Horde recently secured an alliance with a system on the Expansion Edge, and I have invited them to the  _ Velvet Glove _ in order to work out the terms of our treaty.”

Hec-Tor’s ears gave a nervous twitch at the mention of them having visitors. “… okay,” he mumbled softly under his breath.

Silence enveloped the throne room—the only break was the soft, ambient hum of the  _ Velvet Glove’s _ life support systems. All of Prime’s focus was trained on his task. Trying to straighten Hec-Tor’s crest so it lay flat had always been a battle unto itself, although it varied from day-to-day how well it would behave. Today, there were a couple of stubborn flocks that were absolutely refusing to lie flat like the rest, falling back into Hec-Tor’s face again.

“My Emperor?”

Prime’s ears flicked in surprise. He had not even noticed the approach of the third Attendant who had entered the throne room. The new Attendant dipped into a low bow at the base of the dais, just before the steps that led up to the throne. For the moment, Prime’s task was forgotten.

“Well, it’s about time,” he said stiffly, frowning at the clone.

The Attendant rose back to his feet. “The senators from the Hera system are awaiting permission to enter the throne room,” he reported. Then, his gaze darted over to Hec-Tor, and when Hec-Tor raised a tiny hand to wave, the Attendant offered the tiniest of smiles back. “Does the Prince need to be returned to the Creche?”

Prime waved his hand dismissively. “That will not be necessary,” he said as he rose from his seat and set Hec-Tor back down upon the dais. All three of the Attendants immediately bowed at the waist, as they had been trained to do. Prime, however, ignored them as he strode down the steps of the dais, only slowing his gait when he felt the slightest of tugs on the train of his skirt as Hec-Tor must have latched onto the fabric. He paused at the base of the dais, half-turning to watch as Hec-Tor carefully descended the steps after him, taking them one at a time. Once Hec-Tor had reached the bottom of the steps, still clutching the edge of Prime’s skirt, Prime made his way to the center of the room.

There, Prime quickly gave himself a once over to ensure his appearance was immaculate. It would not do to look like a slob in front of his newest subjects. His  _ ami _ had taught him better, after all. The mere thought of them cause his throat to tighten, just a little bit, but he took a deep, shaky breath to quell his thoughts before they bubbled to the surface.His makeup would surely run…

“Ani?”

Prime glanced down to look at Hec-Tor where he stood, still clutching the edge of Prime’s skirt in tiny, taloned hands. He had tilted his head to the side, ears sticking out at different angles as a clear tell to his confusion. There was a flicker of concern in his bright red eyes.

“I am fine, little one,” Prime assured him, before he turned his attention back to the doors at the far end of the throne room. He adjusted his stance, allowing his shoulders and arms to relax as he lightly pressed his fingertips together. Out of the corner of his eye, he noted how the Attendant who had just arrived had moved to flank him, awaiting orders.

“Let them in,” he finally said, and the Attendant immediately moved to comply without a word.

Hec-Tor seemed to have second thoughts about the situation then. One of Prime’s ears twitched as he heard his brother let out a soft, startled chirp. When he glanced down to check on Hec-Tor, he only barely caught sight of him as Hec-Tor ducked into the shadows of his robes, hiding out of sight behind Prime’s knee.

“ _ Hec-Tor _ —” Prime hissed in warning, but there wasn’t time to grab him. The doors at the end of the throne room opened, forcing Prime to let the matter rest for the moment as he quickly righted his stance and forced himself to relax again.

There were three senators—two adults and one elder. Judging by their state of dress, the three of them were well-off, or at the very least held a certain amount of respect back on their home planet. He hadn’t taken the opportunity to really study some of the intricacies of their culture yet, but he knew enough to know what heavy adornment meant. He towered over the three of them by at least two heads, and that alone seemed to set them on edge. They must not have seen the battlefields, so perhaps they did not realize how tall an adult Pyrian could get to be, although Prime was on the taller end of that particular spectrum.

When they finally crossed the throne room, stopping a couple of feet from where he stood, they immediately bowed.

“Oh, none of that,” he said amiably, with a dismissive flick of his ears. “We are all friends here, are we not?”

“Of… of course, Your Majesty,” one of the senators—the eldest one—said shakily as all three rose back to their full heights. The other two senators said nothing. “I am Senator Nyla… our chancellor sent me to speak on her behalf, as she was indisposed.”

“I see,” Prime said, and his ears give the slightest of twitches at the tips, although the movement was largely obscured by his ear clasps. “I trust that the Attendants have been treating you well during your stay?”

“Yes, of course,” Senator Nyla said quickly, dipping their head. They opened their mouth, as if to say something else when a soft squeak cut them off.

Hec-Tor had just made his presence known—by complete accident, Prime was almost certain of that, knowing his baby brother as well as he did. Three different sets of golden eyes immediately snapped to the source of the sound.

“Oh, Ancients,” one of the younger senators whispered, clasping their hands together. “Is that your son?”

Prime stole a quick glance down to where Hec-Tor was peeking out from his hiding place, half-hidden in the shadow of Prime’s skirt. He did not seem intent on coming out, and trying to force him to just to say hello would likely have resulted in Hec-Tor crying… so, Prime merely gave a pristine, perfectly tailored smile.

“My little brother, actually,” he corrected.

Senator Nyla met his gaze again, eyes widening a fraction. “I… I knew that you had a brother, Your Majesty,” they said, speaking tentatively, as if they were carefully choosing their words. “But I had assumed he was… older?”

It was not an assumption that Prime was unfamiliar with. He did not make Hec-Tor’s existence a secret, but he also never made it clear just how young Hec-Tor actually was. The top of Hec-Tor’s head did not even reach Prime’s knee yet—not quite—and he was still chubby-cheeked and wide-eyed. It would still be several years yet before his facial masking began to come in as well. Most of their visitors were shocked when they finally caught sight of him, and Prime supposed he would have been as well. He had been just past the age of majority when Hec-Tor was born. Such a large age gap between siblings was uncommon—even amongst Pyrians.

Regardless, most visitors called Hec-Tor ‘absolutely precious’ or some variation thereof, and Prime was inclined to agree… however, something about the reactions of these visitors was setting his teeth on edge.

“I hear that often,” he finally said, forcing his voice to remain polite. “He is rather shy, so I fear he will not be all that talkative during our meeting.”

“… he is staying for the meeting?” one of the younger senators asked, their eyes widening a fraction.

That particular comment made his hackles raise, and he had to fight to keep a serene smile on his lips—just as his  _ ami _ had taught him to do. He had always taken their lessons to heart, and had spent years standing at his father’s side because of their guidance. He would not allow a couple of senators from a backwater get under his skin like this. Nevertheless, there was a flash of worry in the back of his mind at their fixation on Hec-Tor’s presence.

“Hec-Tor always behaves himself in these meetings,” Prime said simply, and without taking a moment to think on it further, he gave into his compulsion to scoop Hec-Tor up off of the floor and hold him close. Hec-Tor immediately hid his face against Prime’s collar.

The Attendant who had earlier offered to return Hec-Tor to the Creche had already gone and returned to his duties, but the other two Attendants were still standing atop the dais, awaiting instruction. If he was truly so worried, Prime supposed he could have sent Hec-Tor back to the Creche… but neither 099-0783 nor 010-1347 had extensive combat training that would allow them to hold their own against an assassin. 

No, Hec-Tor would have been much safer here in the throne room, where Prime could keep an eye on him. He wouldn’t have known until it was too late if someone had managed to break into the Creche.

His eyes narrowed at the senators. “It is the  _ visitors _ who often do not,” he continued in a clipped tone as he turned away from them and crossed the room to return to his throne. There, he lounged, carefully setting Hec-Tor in his lap. Only once Hec-Tor was situated did he turn his narrowed gaze back onto the senators as his fingers threaded through Hec-Tor’s hair, trying to offer the pup some manner of comfort.

  
“For your sakes,” Prime said airily, his lip curling into a cruel smile. “I hope you’re some of the ones that  _ do _ . After all, I would hate to waste such a _promising_ alliance.”


	2. Part II

Mornings aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ were by-and-large uneventful affairs, provided Prime did not have a meeting scheduled. Lately he had been trying to keep his most important, unavoidable meetings in the afternoon, if only so he was able to cancel those held in the morning at his leisure. Whether because he did not feel like attending or because he wanted to spend more time his brother before his workload became too hectic later in the day for Hec-Tor to accompany him.

He was especially anxious to check up on his brother now, though, and he had barely been able to pay attention during the budgeting meeting he had been unable to avoid that morning. All he could think about was how Hec-Tor had lost his appetite the previous evening and refused to finish his dinner. While 010-1347 had assured him that it was likely just an upset stomach, and that there was very little to worry about, Prime would not have been able to pay attention until he was sure Hec-Tor’s condition hadn’t taken a turn for the worse.

He made his way day the halls of the Imperial Wing, hands tucked nearly at the small of his back. Two Attendants followed after him silently as they passed by the doors leading into suites that had never been used—and likely would never be used, unless Prime suddenly decided to take on a spouse or legitimize one of his bastards. The walls were sterile, unadorned, where his late father’s flagship had always been decorated with pieces of art. The only art hanging in this wing of the  _ Velvet Glove _ were the portraits of his parents that Prime had taken from his father’s flagship when it had been decommissioned following his death.

As Prime rounded the final corner that lead to the main entrance to the Creche, he spotted one of Hec-Tor’s Minders at the end of the hall, just outside the door. Immediately, 066-5555 bowed at the waist into a low bow.

066-5555 was the youngest of Hec-Tor’s Minders, one of the few out of batch five-thousand-five-hundred-and-fifty-five that had not been destined for the front lines on the Expansion Edge. Although a handful from that batch had been conditioned to serve as Attendants, the majority had ended up as soldiers. As such, 066-5555 had been trained extensively in combat, unlike his fellow Minders, 099-0783 and 010-1347, and he served as the final line of defense in the event there was a breach within the Creche.

A necessary precaution, much as Prime dreaded to think of the possibility.

“Hec-Tor is awake by now, I trust?” Prime said, not bothering to look 066-5555 in the eye.

066-5555 dipped his head once. “010-1347 is in the process of drawing blood, as per your—”

“Yes, yes, as per my instruction,” Prime said dismissively. While this blood test had been scheduled weeks prior—when Hec-Tor had switched his medication—Prime was relieved it was being done now, with Hec-Tor’s appetite loss. It was absolutely vital to track his health and ensure his medication was working as intended.

“He was asking for you this morning,” 066-5555 said. “Prince Hec-Tor, I mean.”

While 010-1347 had always been the worst for it, Prime had found that all of the Minders eventually developed a rather pesky habit of speaking up when he hadn’t asked. He suspected it was a learned habit, as Hec-Tor could get quite mouthy himself.

“I assured him last night that we would see each other today after my budgeting meeting, 066-5555,” Prime said dryly. “The door.  _ Now _ .”

A small smile tugged at 066-5555’s lips before he turned away and eagerly moved over to the large door that opened up into the Imperial Creche. Before following after the Minder, Prime motioned for the two Attendants who had been following him to stay put. Giving them a verbal order was unnecessary, and the two of them remained where they stood as Prime followed 066-5555 into the Creche. Once inside, he gave the room a precursory glance, but his eyes eventually fell upon the large sectional that was in the center of the main living area, where Hec-Tor was perched in 099-0783’s lap while 010-1347 drew blood.

“I’m almost done, my Prince,” 010-1347 was saying in a low, soothing tone as he finished drawing a second vial of deep blue blood for his tests. The first already set on the low table opposite the sectional.

Hec-Tor let out a soft whimper in response that was muffled by him having shoved his face into 099-0783’s chest.

One of 010-1347’s ears twitched and swiveled in the direction of the door as he seemed to notice Prime’s arrival. However, he did not look up from his work, filling the final vial and setting it down beside the other two that were already sitting on the table. Then, he carefully pulled the needle from Hec-Tor’s vein and applied a small bit of gauze over top of the spot where he had been drawing blood from.

“See, now, what did I tell you, my Prince?” 010-1347 said with a teasing edge to his voice as Hec-Tor’s tentatively peeked out at him. “It was just a little pinprick and a couple of seconds of your time.”

“We’re done?” Hec-Tor asked softly.

“Yes,” 099-0783 crooned, petting Hec-Tor’s hair. “You were very brave, my Prince.”

Prime cleared his throat then, announcing his presence.

099-0783’s eyes widened a fraction as his gaze snapped in Prime’s direction immediately. His ears gave a nervous flutter, but his expression betrayed little. “Oh, look, my Prince. Your brother is here to see you.”

“Ani!” Hec-Tor said as an excited smile broke out on his features. Any uncertainty that had been lingering in his eyes was gone, and he wiggled free of 099-0783’s grasp, sliding off of his lap and onto the pristine, marbled floor. Then, he darted across the room to latch onto Prime’s leg, and he immediately began prattling on about what he and his Minders had been up to since he had woken up that morning.

Prime glanced down at his baby brother, giving Hec-Tor a once-over. He seemed to be in better spirits than he had been the previous evening, when his sudden loss of appetite had led to him not finishing his dinner. His eyes held their usual sparkle, his ears were more alert… and yet, there was still a gauntness there, only half-hidden beneath the white-and-black robes that bore the Horde’s Wings. He would certainly have a word with the Minders when Hec-Tor was thoroughly occupied elsewhere about ensuring his brother was getting enough to eat.

“I meant for Prince Hec-Tor to be prepared for your arrival, Your Majesty,” 099-0783 spoke up.

Hec-Tor whined, looking back at his Minder. “But I  _ am _ prepared!”

There was the slightest upwards quirk of the corner of 099-0783’s mouth as he regarded Hec-Tor. “Your hair is still a mess, my Prince,” he said simply, almost gently, before his gaze flicked back to Prime. “Allow me to finish preparing Prince Hec-Tor, your—”

“No,” Prime said sharply, before dismissing him with a flick of his hand. “Leave us. Both of you,” he added, looking briefly at 010-1347

While 010-1347 departed without a word, 099-0783 drew back, and surprise flashed across his features. The emotion was gone almost as soon as it had appeared, though, and he dipped into a low bow before disappearing from the room. He slipped out of sight through a nearby doorway that led into one of the many smaller rooms off of the main living area that served as bedrooms. Through the back in the doorway, Prime caught sight of the utter chaos that was contained within.

Ignoring the state of Hec-Tor’s room, Prime knelt down beside Hec-Tor and gave him a second once-over. As 099-0783 had said, Hec-Tor’s hair was in utter disarray—even as he had grown older, it was still an absolute chore to get Hec-Tor to sit still long enough for his hair to be put in order. His robes were not much better off, loose around the arms and chest, and Hec-Tor was fussing with them now as if he would have preferred to have been wearing anything else.

“Is something displeasing you, little one?” Prime asked before his purposefully twitched one of his ears in an attempt to bring Hec-Tor’s attention to his own. “Your ears are drooping.”

“They’re itchy,” Hec-Tor complained as he pawed at the sleeves of his robes with little, needle sharp talons. It was a small miracle that the fabric was thick and not prone to ripping, or else he might have torn the sleeves to shreds in an instant, nicking his sensitive skin in the process. “And tight… I don’t like them.”

“What you like and dislike is irrelevant, little one,” Prime said blandly, raking his talons through the snow white hair of Hec-Tor’s crest in an attempt to straighten it. “You must be  _ perfect _ if you are going to be in the public eye.”

Hec-Tor pouted and averted his gaze. “That’s what Nan says.”

Prime’s hand stilled in Hec-Tor’s hair, and his ears gave a confused flick. “… Nan?” he repeated as his brow furrowed. His first assumption was that this ‘Nan’ was one of Hec-Tor’s imaginary friends. As the only pup aboard this ship, Hec-Tor did not have many playmates, just the Minders, or Prime, on the rare occasion he was feeling in an especially good mood. However, Prime could not recall a single one of Hec-Tor’s imaginary friends being named ‘Nan’, and the Minders—

He sighed heavily, pinching his nasal ridge between his fingers in exasperation as it hit him. Hec-Tor’s primary minder, 099-0783.

“You are  _ not _ supposed to  _ name _ them, little one,” Prime said, voice sharp.

Hec-Tor’s gaze flicked back to meet Prime’s, and his head moved so sharply that a couple of flocks of his hair slipped out of place from between Prime’s talons and back into his face. Prime stared back, silently watching the little cogs in his baby brother’s mind turned as he considered what Prime had just said.

“Why not?” Hec-Tor finally said, voice soft and tentative.

Prime frowned at the question. He rarely gave much thought to the Minders or questioned their existence. They were ultimately tools that served a specific purpose and nothing more. While it was true that their purpose had evolved since they had originally been created using Hec-Tor’s genetics as a template, those that didn’t spend their lives in the labs were either sent to serve on the battlefields or relegated to manual labor. When they could no longer serve their purpose, they were disposed of and sent to the labs for dissection and testing. The Minders lack of true independence was the only reason they were allowed to care for his baby brother as closely as they did. With Hec-Tor in such a  _ delicate _ condition, he was in the perfect position to be taken advantage of or hurt.

Hec-Tor had not yet realized any of this, of course, being as young as he was. As far as he was concerned, the Minders were his ‘friends’. They took care of him, spent every waking moment with him, and watched over him while he slept. Prime supposed it was reasonable for a pup his age to… get attached. It was no matter, of course. Hec-Tor would come to understand the true role of the clones, time. Until then, Prime supposed he could always… dispose of the ones that Hec-Tor became too attached to. Nip those feelings of closeness in the bud, as it were.

Where one fell, ten more stood to take his place.

“Because I said not to,” Prime finally stated, his voice firm.

Hec-Tor’s ears flattened. “That isn’t an answer.”

Prime’s ears twitched, and his eyes widened just a fraction at Hec-Tor’s tenacity. Then, his lip curled back, revealing a flash of bright green canines. Always such a  _ spirited _ little thing. Most of the time, it was endearing. Now, though, it was just frustrating.

“He has a serial number—099-0783,” Prime said, repeating each number in the sequence clearly. “If you must call him  _ anything _ , use his serial number.” Then, believing that would be the end of it, he tried to hold Hec-Tor still long enough to fix his hair. “Now, stop fighting me and—”

Hec-Tor ignored him and squirmed, as if trying to get free of his grasp. “But that’s  _ not _ a name!”

“My  _ patience _ is beginning to wear thin, Hec-Tor—”

“But it’s not fair!” Hec-Tor insisted. “Nan doesn’t have a name, so I gave him one!”

“ _ Enough _ !”

Hec-Tor immediately fell silent, flinching back at the harshness of Prime’s tone. Tears appeared in his eyes, threatening to fall, and his lower lip quivered.

Prime took a deep breath to calm himself again. It was… unbecoming of him to raise his voice like that. Especially at his darling baby brother. Wordlessly, he opened his arms and Hec-Tor immediately perked up, ears and all, before he hurried forward into Prime’s arms.

“It is better this way, little one,” Prime began, his voice softening as he smoothed Hec-Tor’s hair back once more—finally setting it right. This time, rather than fight against him, Hec-Tor pressed into the touch and let out a soft little chirp. “If you call 099-0783 by anything other than his serial number, you are only going to confuse him. Do you understand?”

Hec-Tor hesitated, and there was something in his gaze that seemed just a little unsure, but he did not start arguing again. Instead, he gave a little nod, and said nothing else.

“Good,” Prime said before he scooped Hec-Tor up and rose back to his feet, balancing Hec-Tor easily on his hip. One of his ears twitched as he heard the door to Hec-Tor’s bedroom slide open along its track with a sharp  _ hiss _ . 099-0783 emerged a moment later, and immediately dipped into a low bow.

“Inform 010-1347 when he returns that I want him to meet me in the throne room this evening to discuss the results of his testing,” Prime said. “After Hec-Tor has been put to bed for the night.”

099-0783 dipped his head before he glanced at Hec-Tor again. His mouth was set in a hard line, his ears flattening. “Is Prince Hec-Tor’s attire satisfactory, your Majesty?”

Prime paused, giving Hec-Tor another once over. Although his hair was straightened now, his robes were still ill-fitting for his body. He would need to have his entire wardrobe refitted again if he continued losing weight as he had been… he was already so tiny.

“Adequate, yes,” Prime finally said. “Fortunately for you, 099-0783, Hec-Tor is not making an appearance today. Your assistance will not be required until after his lunch.”

099-0783’s ears gave a flick of acknowledgment, although he looked saddened to be separated from his charge. “Of course, my Emperor.”

Without another word, Prime pivoted on his heel and left the room. 066-555 fell in line behind him as he passed through the doorway that led back out into the hall. The two Attendants who had accompanied Prime to the Creche in the first place had remained right where he had left them, and they too followed him as he passed. None of the clones said anything, as there was no reason for them to speak at all. They just did as they had been conditioned to do.

“Now then,” Prime said as he looked down at Hec-Tor, who was still balanced on his hip. “Why don’t you summarize your studies for me?”

Hec-Tor’s tilted his head to the side, looking confused. “But I haven’t had them yet today.”

Prime rolled his eyes, but a smile that verged on gentle and fond appeared on his features nonetheless. “I know that, little one, but I did not get the chance to ask you last night before your appetite left you,” he retorted. “I believe you have been learning about the origins of the Empire?”

Hec-Tor nodded quickly, although he did appear to be a little let down that that was the subject Prime was asking him about. That was unsurprising, though. Since he had started properly schooling, Hec-Tor had never been particularly vocal about the vast majority of his studies. 099-0783 had described Hec-Tor as very creative and highly intuitive when it came to the arts and sciences, but he showed very little interest in matters of warfare. At least, not unless he was begging to be allowed to accompany Prime everywhere he went… that seemed to be more out of clinginess than from genuine interest in what Prime was doing, though.

But Hec-Tor was still young and malleable. With any luck, and a bit of nudging, Prime would be able to mold Hec-Tor into a fine general. Assuming a cure could be found for his illness.

“How about you summarize what you’ve learned for me?” Prime prompted as he turned down the pristine hallway that would lead them towards Prime’s personal gardens.

In his arms, Hec-Tor perked up, his ears twitching in barely concealed excitement. “About?”

“About the origins of the Empire, of course,” Prime said. “099-0783 recently informed me that you have covered the very beginning.”

Hec-Tor pouted, and his ears flattened. “Fine…” he muttered, and his gaze dropped down again. “The Empire was founded within the Vampyrus system… um…” he trailed off, ears twitching as he tried to remember what he had been taught by 099-0783 during his lessons the previous afternoon.

Prime did not speak, nor did he try to pressure Hec-Tor into giving him an answer before he was ready. Instead, he reached out to once again move a pesky flock of Hec-Tor’s snow white hair back into place, ensuring it was perfectly smoothed back, as was intended. This time, Hec-Tor didn’t even notice, concentrating too hard on trying to remember a specific number.

“It was a while ago,” the pup finally said, voice soft and almost meek as he peeked up at Prime tentatively.

Prime chuckled despite himself. “That is an understatement, little one.”

For a moment, Hec-Tor was silent, and the tips of his ears twitched as he seemed to think. Then, he opened his mouth, as if he meant to say something.

“Your Majesty!” came from further down the hall, cutting Hec-Tor before he had a chance to speak.

Prime scowled, looking away from his brother to the Attendant that was running down the hall towards them. He seemed to be in a hurry, so whatever it was must have been important. In his arms, Hec-Tor had perked up and was watching the approaching Attendant with wide, curious eyes.

“What is it?” Prime questioned. He held little interest in leaving Hec-Tor before the pup’s lunch, but if it was truly so important that this Attendant had come running to find him.

The Attendant’s gaze darted to Hec-Tor briefly, and there was the slightest downward shift of his ears, a flash of unease crossing his features. “You are needed, your Majesty,” he said simply. “Something has come up with the expansion efforts in Sector Beta-Nine.”

Prime sighed heavily. “Very well,” he said, before dismissing the Attendant with a simple hand wave. The clone dipped into a bow and then walked off, much calmer as he had done the job he had set out to do. Prime glanced down at Hec-Tor, and found that his brother’s ears had drooped again. “Hec-Tor—”

“Can I come?” Hec-Tor asked hopefully. Though his ears had drooped, they gave the slightest of twitches upwards as he spoke. His eyes were sparkling with a faint hope.

Prime stared at him blankly, unsure of what to say. Hec-Tor only showed interest in warfare and the state of the Empire when it involved following Prime around like a newly hatched baby bird. Prime also didn’t think that Hec-Tor was old enough to truly grasp why certain measures were  _ necessary _ to maintain peace and order across the universe. Though Hec-Tor pleading eyes might have gotten him some concessions with other things, not so here.

“Perhaps when you are older,” Prime said. “And when you can remember the date the Empire was founded.”

Hec-Tor pouted, but didn’t argue further. He looked noticeably displeased to once again be barred from following Prime everywhere he went.

“Chin up, little one,” Prime crooned. “I’ll see you for dinner, and I’ll have the kitchens make your favorite. How does that sound?”

Hec-Tor’s ears perked up, just a little bit, and the idea of getting his favorite meal for dinner seemed to placate him somewhat. He wiggled in Prime’s hold, nudging the crown of his head and his cheek against Prime’s chin and jaw line. It was a gesture that meant to be affectionate, usually done between young pups and their parents or siblings. Prime returned the gesture, even going as far as to mirror the soft trilling chirp that Hec-Tor had let out, although his came out deeper and more pitched. Then, he carefully set Hec-Tor back down on the ground, and gave him a firm nudge between his shoulder blades to encourage him back over towards 066-5555, who stood several paces away.

Beneath his touch, Prime could feel how gaunt Hec-Tor was, but he managed to bit back the urge to rescind his initial decision of not allowed Hec-Tor to accompany him. 066-5555 would protect him in Prime’s stead, much as Prime loathed letting Hec-Tor out of his sight.

“Make sure he eats his entire lunch,” Prime said, leveling 066-5555 with a hard stare as Hec-Tor reached up to take hold of the Minder’s hand when 066-5555 offered it to him.

066-5555 bowed low to Prime but said nothing in response, and then carefully led Hec-Tor back down the hallway the way they had come, while the other two Attendants stayed in place, staring straight ahead and unmoving.

“Kurok, can we go to the gardens?” Hec-Tor’s voice was barely above a whisper.

Prime’s narrowed as he half-turned to watch them go. ‘Kurok’ was even more offensive to him than ‘Nan’ had been. Where had Hec-Tor gotten the idea that a clone deserved the name of a folk hero? The very one whose name was where their own clan’s name had been taken from.

066-5555 did not correct Hec-Tor either. He merely tilted his head to the side. “Unfortunately, my Prince, we cannot,” he said simply. “We will be returning to your room, where you will take your lunch, before you have your afternoon lessons with 099-0783.”

Hec-Tor’s ears drooped again, and though he sighed, he said nothing else as he and 066-5555 disappeared around the corner at the end of the hall.

—

Prime ended up missing out on dinner that evening.

Far too much had required his attention, and though dull it might have been, his work was necessary to ensure the continued stability of the Empire. Lingering issues on the Expansion Edge had been sorted with the help of a specially conditioned command drone, and following that, Prime had spent the rest of the evening scheduling several upcoming meetings with representatives from a few of the Empire’s largest trade partners. It was necessary to ensure the Empire’s supply lines were running smoothly, and Prime preferred to handle such meetings face-to-face. 

His final obligation of the evening was sitting through one such meeting with a representative from the planet of Actius Luna. Although the Niidae were a more recent addition to the Empire, and they had been smart enough to surrender to him with very little fuss on their parts. Prime had been meeting with them more and more frequently as of late, as the minerals hidden beneath the densely forested surface of their planet had proven invaluable to the Empire’s rapidly expanding munitions program.

Their current representative was young, perhaps only a little older than Prime was himself, comparatively speaking. This was the first time Prime had dealt with this particular representative, but they had yet to fuss or raise their voice to argue with him. While he didn’t know if that was something they had been coached to do by their mentors when they had been assigned to the position, it matter little to Prime in the grand scheme of things. So long representatives behaved themselves, Prime was content to live and let live.

One thing this particular representative had clearly not been warned of, however, was the presence of the Attendants that always stood just behind the throne.

In the years since he had taken the throne, Prime had become accustomed to many things. While he had been handling management of certain aspects of the Empire since he had been an adolescent, the sheer amount of work his late had undertaken on a day-to-day basis had been a shock to him, at the time. He had since learned how to manage it all.There was also maintaining a calm and collected air, in spite of whatever emotion was swirling around in his head at the time, although that had taken hardly any practice to perfect. He had been taught to do so since the time he had begun making public appearances as a child, under the tutelage of his  _ ami _ .

Since phasing out the older servants and replacing them with clone stock, however, Prime had also become accustomed to visitors being unsure of the Attendants. Many found their presence to be off-putting, due to their lack of expression, how they did not often move unless they had been given an order or were on a task. At times, the reactions visitors had to the presence of the Attendants was amusing.

“You need not worry about them,” Prime assured the representative as he lounged in his seat on the throne. Then, he smirked. “They only attack on command.”

The representative’s wings gave a rather nervous flutter behind them, but they merely returned their gaze to the datapad in their hand, rather than respond to his comment. For a moment, they scrolled through what Prime assumed as correspondence with the leadership back on Actius Luna. When they found what they were looking for, they glanced back up at him again. 

“My people will be sending the next shipment of lunium in a few weeks, Your Majesty,” they finally said. There was a strained politeness to their voice, and it sounded as though they were forcing their voice out through their teeth, try as they might to hide it.

“Excellent!” Prime said, and for once his excitement was genuine. Much as he had been longing for this meeting to end—as it had been beginning to wear on his nerves—he was pleased that something good could have come out of it. However, he kept his voice as controlled and level as possible all the same. “Your service has been invaluable to the Empire’s continued success.”

“There is one more thing, Your Majesty, before I go,” the representative said, almost tentatively. “Our leadership extended an invitation for both yourself and Prince Hec-Tor to attend an upcoming event in celebration of the new year.”

Prime’s ears flattened against the sides of his head, moving of their own accord before he could fully process the statement. Receiving invitations from his business partners and allies to attend such events was not an uncommon occurrence for him, and he usually chose to do so. It kept up appearances, it allowed him a chance to mingle with those he had to keep under his control—managing his allies was far more difficult than managing his Attendants, after all.

However, Hec-Tor had never attended such an event before, and he was rarely ever invited personally.

Until his conditioned had been successfully cured, Hec-Tor would not be stepping foot off of the  _ Velvet Glove _ unless it was absolutely necessary. Prime had already decided that shortly after Hec-Tor had been born. There were just too many variables to take into account when it come to his health and safety. Those very variables were the main reason why Hec-Tor had ceased to be a regular sight in the throne room years ago. But perhaps someday, when he was healthy and had grown into his role within the Empire.

“I would be honored to attend,” Prime said, keeping his voice collected as he willed his ears and shoulders to relax. “But I am afraid that Hec-Tor does not attend such events.”

The representative nodded curtly, their brow furrowing in concern. “Yes… I suppose that it must be difficult for him to travel when he’s ill.”

The screech of metal against metal cut through the air, and the sound of it would have put a lesser being’s teeth on edge. Beneath Prime’s touch, solid metal was severed, leaving deep gouges in the arm of his throne. As he rose from his seat, the cables attached to an woven through his pristine, snow white hair emerged from the docks at his collar, poising to strike like vipers.

“… and just where did you hear he was ill?” Prime questioned in a low, saccharine purr.

The representative didn’t speak immediately, as their gaze darted between the severed arm of his throne, to Prime’s gleaming talons, then to the cables weaving through the hair on either side of his head. Their eyes widened in horror as they seemed to realize the mistake they had just made by bringing up Hec-Tor’s health.

“I—I meant no offense,” they said, back away from him as he descended the dais and closed the distance between them. Behind them, their wings fluttered anxiously, and the antennae atop their head became alert in what seemed to be a fear response.

“That is not an answer,” Prime said blandly as he stopped in front of them and leaned down, closer than was strictly necessary. The representative flinched back, their breath hitching in fear. “I shall ask one more time,” he continued, impatience clear in his tone, as the cables woven into his hair framed his face on either side. “Who told you that Hec-Tor was ill?”

The representative did not speak immediately, opening and closing their mouth several times in an attempt to find their voice again. Their fear was clear as day, and they had every reason to be terrified. One more wrong word and he could kill them before they were even aware of what was happening. Finally, the representative glanced at the space behind him—in the direction of the throne, he realized, where the Attendants were still standing atop the dais, watching and waiting.

“It… it was one of the servants you assigned to me during my stay,” they managed. There was a slight shake to their voice as they spoke, and the tension in their body was clearly visible, like a coil that had been stretched so tightly it was on the precipice of snapping. 

Prime found himself smirking with just a hint of canine. “Is that so?” he asked, rising back to his full height and allowing the representative their breathing room back.

He had assigned three different Attendants to this particular representative when they had first arrived aboard the Velvet Glove several days ago. One of those Attendants happened to have been temporarily serving Hec-Tor for a short time prior, and would have been well aware of Hec-Tor’s condition. However, the state of Hec-Tor’s health was not meant to be discussed outside of a select few—aside from Prime, there were the Minders, the Attendants who personally served Prime, and the Supervising Drones that worked down in the labs. 

“Well then, I will certainly have a word with that Attendant,” Prime said.

“O-Of course, Your Majesty,” the representative said, still avoiding eye contact with him. “Now, if you would be so kind as to excuse me… I must contact the leadership and—”

“… oh, I’m afraid you won’t be going anywhere.”

Prime reached out, clasping his hand around the representative’s throat, although he did not lift them off of the ground. It would have been little trouble to do so, though, as they were only roughly half his size. The silver talon guard on his index finger dug into the back of their neck as an unspoken warning. Their gaze was completely focused on him, eyes widening to the size of saucers, but they said nothing in response.

“The subject of my darling baby brother’s health is a delicate one, you understand?” Prime said calmly. “As such, anybody finding out about his illness leaves him in a precarious position… and I do not risk little Hec-Tor’s safety for anything.”

Then, on the far side of the throne room, the doors leading out into the hallway opened. One of Prime’s ears twitched in irritation as a scowl appeared on his features. Although he did not release his hold on the representative’s throat, he did turn his head to glare at whoever had dared to disturb him when he was in the middle of a meeting. Attendants would have at least had the courtesy to announce themselves before entering a room. 010-1347, however, was staring at his datapad. His talons lightly clicked against the screen as he walked, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. When he did notice he was being stared at, however, he glanced up to meet Prime’s gaze. Without a word, his gaze swept over to the representative who was being held firmly in Prime’s grasp. One of 010-1347’s ears gave a twitch, but his expression remained otherwise impassive as he turned his undivided attention back onto Prime.

He bowed at the waist. “You requested my findings on Project L-O, Your Majesty.”

“ _ After _ Hec-Tor had been put down for the evening,” Prime retorted. He had assumed that would be more than enough time for this meeting to conclude.

010-1347 tilted his head, mouth becoming set in a hard line. “Prince Hec-Tor fell asleep half an hour ago. 099-0783 and 066-5555 remained with him while I came here to deliver the report you requested.”

Had it truly gotten so late? Prime hadn’t even noticed what time it actually was, just that he had missed the dinner he had promised to take with Hec-Tor earlier that morning.

At that moment, the representative let out a soft noise and squirmed in his grasp, as if they were trying to get themself free. It served to remind Prime of the presence

“I-I swear I won’t breathe a word of this,” the representative managed to wheeze. “Just let me go… please.”

Prime uttered a soft, contemplative hum in the back of his throat as he actually took the time to pause. If he killed them now, there was a very real possibility that Actius Luna would retaliate against him and the Imperial presence on their world. It always was a pity when it came to that… but all he needed was the minerals buried beneath Actius Luna’s surface, and those could be extracted by teams of clones, with or without the presence of the natives.

“Or I could burn your forests to the ground,” he said simply, and his smirk returned to his lips. “No secret would be in danger of getting out then, would it?”

The ambassador was silent for a moment, staring up at him with wide, horrified eyes. “B-But—” they cut in quickly, words failing them. 

“If you burn down the forests, you would be killing valuable plants that might help with Prince Hec-Tor’s condition, Your Majesty,” 010-1347 spoke up, reminding Prime that he was there.

However, his words gave Prime pause, and his grip on the representative’s throat laxed somewhat as he glanced over his shoulder at the clone through narrowed eyes. He could ignore 010-1347 speaking out of turn, for now. “Valuable plants?” he repeated, looking unconvinced.

010-1347’s ears flattened against the sides of his head, but he dipped his head once in a nod. “S-008-0004 mentioned that several of the plants he has been studying that were brought back from Actius Luna were used by the natives to help combat irregular cell division, neurological conditions, muscular decay,” he explained. “There might be a plant on Actius Luna that could aid in finding a cure for Prince Hec-Tor’s ailments.”

“… very well,” Prime said, as he finally released his hold on the representative’s throat.

They seemed to have enough sense to not speak up or start grovelling at his feet. Instead, they continued staring at him with wide, terrified eyes.

“However, you will be remaining on the  _ Velvet Glove _ indefinitely,” Prime continued. “ Until your planet is no longer of any use to me.” Then, he might burn it to the ground. It depended on how much of a nuisance the natives made themselves out to be in that time.

At his words, the representative’s expression fell, and they opened their mouth as if to say something, but then thought better of it, and remained silent.

Prime snapped his fingers then, drawing the attention of the Attendants who were standing atop the dais. “Escort our visitor back to their rooms,” he ordered. “And ensure they stay there until further notice.”

Without a word, the Attendants moved, perfectly synchronized as they descended the stairs and crossed the throne room. They flanked the representative on either side, leading them from the room. As they were led away, the representative didn’t speak, although they did appear as though they had just gone into shock.

It was no matter, and Prime had already decided he was not going to spare another thought on it tonight. There were other things that required his attention—like 010-1347’s report.

“Now then, how is Hec-Tor?” Prime said, voice still stiff as he made his way back over to the dais to return to his throne. There, he lounged, crossing one leg over the other, and watched as 010-1347 followed a couple of paces after him, lingering at the bottom of the stairs.

“He ate his dinner without issue, although he was a little argumentative,” 010-1347 reported. “He had requested your presence… numerous times.”

Prime sighed heavily, pinching his nasal ridge in exasperation. “I had other matters to attend to that were—” he cut off, trying to think of a proper wording. ‘More important’ did not sound right to him. “More pressing,” he finally decided on.

“Of course, my Emperor,” 010-1347 said automatically, tilting his head to the side.

“Hec-Tor had a blood test this morning,” Prime prompted, voice collected. “I want an overview.”

010-1347 nodded. “I took three vials, enough to run a series of tests on his nutrient levels, blood cell counts, and organ functions. Prince Hec-Tor’s medication was changed from an older, more inefficient formula several months ago and—”

Prime let out an impatient hiss. “I’m  _ aware _ of that,” he said, tapping his talons against the arm of his throne he hadn’t torn to ribbons earlier. “What were the  _ results _ ?”

010-1347 opened his mouth, only to immediately close it again. His ears gave the slightest of droops, in spite of how his expression remained serene and blank. When Prime tentatively probed the clone’s thoughts from afar, there was a flash of unease, despair in the back of his mind, muted but still obviously present amongst a sea of disjointed thoughts that had never threaded together fully.

And Prime’s heart sank.

Leaning back more heavily in his seat, he pressed a hand to his face. When the labs had first begun synthesizing this specific medication, he had been told that it was unlikely to fully cure Hec-Tor’s condition…  _ none _ of the medication they had tried had ever worked. It had only served to stave off the inevitable. But after the sudden deaths of their parents—in quick succession, one right after the other—Prime had already lost too much.

He refused to give Hec-Tor up.

“Your Majesty, if I may…”

“ _ What _ ,” Prime hissed out through his teeth as his frustration threatened to boil over.

True to his nature, 010-1347 didn’t even flinch. His citrine green eyes stared ahead blankly, expression betraying nothing. “It might not be the miracle cure that you hoped it would, but this medication is stabilizing him,” 010-1347 said simply. “It will allow him to live his life until a more permanent solution can be found. Perhaps even a cure, in time.”

Prime’s ears gave an irritated twitch. “And how many more test subjects is that going to take?”

It was never an exact science. While some emerged from their vitrines completely healthy or with the defects that plagued Hec-Tor’s health completely dormant, others never even made it out due to malformation while in utero. Those that were healthy upon emergence were used as a labor force, an army… they were the Minders, the Attendants, the soldiers.

Those who were not healthy, however…

“There are several hundred near the end of their incubation cycle, my Emperor,” 010-1347 said. “Many of whom show identical symptoms to Prince Hec-Tor. If it pleases you, I can return to the labs before returning to my Prince’s side and request those that display his symptoms be moved to the testing facilities immediately.”

Prime gave a soft, contemplative hum. “Very well. I want the Supervising Drones to begin running tests using the plants from Actius Luna, effective immediately,” he said, with an underlying stiffness to his voice .At the very least, he wanted to ensure Hec-Tor kept weight on. The little thing was skin and bones, delicate and liable to break.

010-1347 dipped into a bow. “I will pass along the message, Your Majesty.”

Prime waved his hand, dismissing 010-1347 without a word, before pressing his hand against his forehead, where a migraine was beginning to form. It had been a long day for him, and he hadn’t even realized how exhausted he was until now. The throne room was silent around him, save for the soft hum of the life support systems and 010-1347’s light footfalls as he moved across the throne room’s marbled floor. Prime’s ears twitched at the sound of the latter.

“Wait!” he said sharply.

010-1347 immediately stopped, and when Prime lifted his gaze, he found 010-1347 staring back at him with blank, citrine green eyes.

“What does Hec-Tor call you?” Prime questioned, recalling the conversation he had with his baby brother earlier that morning regarding Hec-Tor’s ridiculous pet names for his Minders. It would have been easy enough to probe the clone’s mind, rifle around through his thoughts until Prime found what he was looking for. 010-1347 spent most of his time tending to Hec-Tor, so surely Hec-Tor would have said the pet name at least once to 010-1347’s face.

But he wanted to hear it from the clone’s mouth.

010-1347 tilted his head to the side, ear tips twitching as a flash of curiosity sparkled in his eyes. “… Doc,” he finally said. “Prince Hec-Tor calls me Doc.”

And then he turned and left the room, and Prime said nothing, watching him go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For your reference, because i feel like this says a lot about the characters:
> 
> Prime: refuses to say fuck because it's beneath his station  
> Nan: has said fuck in the past but no longer says it  
> Doc: regularly says fuck  
> Kurok: has not said fuck before and refuses to say it  
> Hec-Tor: legally not allowed to say fuck


	3. Part III

Prime almost missed the days of Hec-Tor sneaking around the  _ Velvet Glove _ to come and bother him—at least Hec-Tor had been easy to keep track of then. He had rarely strayed far from where he knew Prime would be, and a quick search of the Imperial Wing had always been enough to find him. As he had gotten a little older, though, Hec-Tor had developed something of a wanderlust, which in turn, developed into a bad habit of running off on his Minders or Prime to explore the  _ Velvet Glove  _ without supervision.

The stress his little brother’s escapades caused Prime could not go without stating.

Hec-Tor, however, was too young to truly grasp the kind of danger he was putting himself in by running off and exploring unsupervised. The  _ Velvet Glove _ had plenty of visitors, many of whom would likely have seen Hec-Tor as a valuable bargaining chip to force Prime to cooperate with their terms, if they didn’t just attempt to harm him outright. Without 066-5555 or an Attendant accompanying him, Hec-Tor could have easily been taken advantage of by someone who noticed how small and frail he was. The  _ Velvet Glove _ was meant to be a safe space for Hec-Tor, where nothing could possibly take him away from Prime unless Prime allowed it to happen…

There was also the matter of Hec-Tor’s recent inquiries about the Minders and Attendants—where they came from, why they all looked and sounded exactly alike. He seemed to have figured out there was something… unnatural about them, and like any pup, he was curious. Prime had been hoping to nip Hec-Tor’s little habit of running off in the bud before he figured out how to override the locks on the elevators and end up down in the labs by accident. It was unlikely that Hec-Tor would understand if he stumbled across that at his age.

Prime tried not to dwell too long on the thoughts that gnawed at the back of his mind as he made his way through the halls of the Imperial Wing. He had already searched through most of the rooms here—from the Creche and the adjoining Emperor’s Suite, to the plethora of unused suites that would have been occupied by his spouses and older legitimate children, had he had any. While he had been doing that, several Attendants swept over the parts of the ship that Hec-Tor could have reached without using the elevators, and 099-0783 had remained back in the Creche, just in case Hec-Tor returned there.

While Hec-Tor had never ventured terribly far before, it did not hurt to be thorough. Not where Hec-Tor was concerned. Yet, for all their searching, nobody had come across him, and tearing the  _ Velvet Glove _ in half in a desperate attempt to locate Hec-Tor was beginning to look almost tempting.

As Prime strode past a slightly ajar door to one of the observation decks, however, he heard a pair of voices coming from within. He froze in place where he stood, one of his ears twitching and swiveling backwards to listen. One of the voices was deeper in pitch, sounding not unlike his own—although there were minute differences. However, the second was higher and held an underlying rasp, as if the speaker had just gone through a rather harsh bout of coughing.

Hec-Tor.

Pivoting on his heel, Prime returned the way he had just come from, although he managed to restrain himself from running. He poked his head in through the doorway, and almost opened his mouth to scent the air before he noticed Hec-Tor on the far side of the room, standing in front of the large floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto the stars. 066-5555 was knelt beside him.

“This one is known as  _ Lyra _ ,” 066-5555 was saying, with a certain fondness—an underlying warmth—to his voice. Carefully, he took hold of one of Hec-Tor’s small hands and pressed his fingers against the glass of the observation deck’s windows. “See it, just here?” he continued, moving Hec-Tor’s hand across the glass, helping the pup trace out the constellation from among the several hundred that would have been visible to them in this stretch of the cosmos.

Hec-Tor’s eyes had gone wide, his mouth slightly agape as he marveled at the stars. He could only let out a soft hum at 066-5555’s question.

A bright smile appeared on 066-5555’s features. Gently, he moved Hec-Tor’s hand again, tracing out a second constellation. “And this one is  _ Nevere _ .”

Hec-Tor’s ears perked straight up, and he seemed to snap out of whatever daze he had been in. “Like  _ ami _ ?”

066-5555 dipped his head once, smile never fading. “Yes, like Imperial Consort Nevere,” he said. “The constellation is named after a folk hero who was known as the Protector, leading countless battles against forces that sought to bring about the end of the universe. It is said they now wait, holding back the artificer of the doomsday in a celestial prison of their own design.”

Hec-Tor could only let out a soft, curious sounding trill, staring out the window with wide eyes.

Once again, 066-5555 moved Hec-Tor’s hand, helping trace yet another constellation. “This one…” he trailed off, and was silent for a moment. His ears gave a cautious flick, his mouth setting into hard line as he finished guiding Hec-Tor’s hand. “This one is  _ Hec-Tor _ …”

A curious gleam made its way into Hec-Tor’s eyes as he looked up at 066-5555. “I’m named after a constellation?”

“Yes,” 066-5555 said simply, although his expression remained the same—frowning, brow pinched. “Horde Prime Ar-Tor was very strict about what you were to be named before he…” he trailed off then, seeming to think better of mentioning the previous Horde Prime’s death directly.

“It’s okay, Kurok,” Hec-Tor said, offering a smile he likely meant to be comforting. “Anillis told me what happened…”

Briefly, anyway. Prime hadn’t gone into detail about what had caused their father’s untimely death—he hadn’t even wanted to discuss the matter at all. Even years later, the wound still felt too fresh. But Hec-Tor had been curious, and he was nothing if not stubborn when he wanted to know something… so Prime had finally settled on telling him that their father had died when Hec-Tor had been far too young to have any recollection of him.

Hec-Tor hadn’t even opened his eyes yet…

Pushing thoughts of their late father to the back of his mind before his emotions overwhelmed him, Prime cleared his throat loudly and stepped fully into the room. 066-5555’s ears flicked in his direction, and he immediately rose back to his feet, straightening his shoulders and allowing his arms to hang loosely at his sides.

“My Emperor,” he said simply, dipping into a low bow.

Hec-Tor’s ears gave a little twitch as he smiled nervously, tilting his head to the side. “Um… hi?”

“Is this where you’ve been all morning?” Prime questioned, frowning at his brother. “I have had the Attendants scouring the entire ship for you, little one!”

This time, Hec-Tor’s ears pinned back. “Kur—I-I mean 066-5555 and I have been here the whole morning,” he said, shaking his head. “He was just teaching me constellations, that’s all.”

“I could have taught you,” Prime retorted stiffly as he leveled an annoyed glare at 066-5555, who was no longer making eye contact. His gaze was instead trained upon his boots, his mouth set in a hard line once again.

“But you’re always busy.”

Prime’s gaze moved to his brother instead. “… what?”

Hec-Tor’s ears gave a noticeable twitch out of nervousness, avoiding Prime’s eyes. But then, he took a deep breath and steeled himself again, squaring his shoulders. “I-I said that you’re always busy,” he said, pouting irritably. There was a determined crease on his brow despite the slight shake of his voice. “I wanted to learn constellations, so I asked 066-5555 to teach me.”

066-5555 spoke up then, finally lifting his gaze to meet Prime’s. “My purpose to serve my Prince,” he said, as if reciting the words from a card that had been placed in front of him.

Sometimes, it seemed the Minders served their purpose a little too well. However, he was also thankful, on some level, that it had been 066-5555 who had been with Hec-Tor, rather than 099-0783. At least if someone had gotten close enough to attack them, 066-5555 stood a chance of fighting back and raising the alarm so that any nearby Attendants would have flocked to them and aided in Hec-Tor’s defense.

“Be that as it may, I do not appreciate having to search the ship for you, Hec-Tor,” Prime retorted, before beckoning Hec-Tor to him with a flick of his ears. “Now, come along. We were meant to visit Father and  _ ami _ before my afternoon meetings.”

A bright smile broke out on Hec-Tor’s features. “I can show them my new project!” he said excitedly. “Lemme go get it!”

Prime opened his mouth to argue—they didn’t have  _ time _ for Hec-Tor to go and get one of his little tinkering projects from his room—but Hec-Tor had already darted past him and disappeared into the hallway before Prime could stop him. 066-5555 bowed quickly at the waist before he followed after his charge, disappearing into the hallways after Hec-Tor.

Prime took a very, very deep breath. When he had been Hec-Tor’s age, he hadn’t gone running off unless he had been given express permission by Father or  _ ami _ . By that time, he had known better. He released the breath he had taken in, letting out a soft hiss of annoyance through his teeth, before he followed Hec-Tor and 066-5555 from the room. They were both already gone from view by the time he exited the room.

So, Prime remained in place, tapping one of his talon guards against his bracer impatiently. He only had to wait a few minutes—the Creche wasn’t that far—before Hec-Tor hurried back down the hall, huffing a little bit from the exertion. Before Prime could begin fussing over him for pushing himself too hard, Hec-Tor proudly held his little ‘project’ up for Prime to see. It was a teeny spherical robot with a bright red ocular processor that set easily across Hec-Tor’s palms, small enough that Prime would have only needed one hand to hold it.

“It’s a battle bot!” Hec-Tor said as his entire face lit up. “So you could phase out some of the ground troops!”

Prime frowned, tilting his head to the side as he regarded the tiny bot as it bounced a little bit in Hec-Tor’s hands. His ears gave a skeptical twitch. “Hec-Tor… it’s the size of my palm.”

Hec-Tor rolled his eyes and pouted. “That’s because it’s a  _ prototype _ !” he said as one of his ears twitched irritably. Then, he looked down at the bot in his hands, which let out a high-pitched whirring sound as it trotted around on his palms. “I’ve been trying to get it to zap people… N—I mean, 099-0783 didn’t like that. But I wasn’t allowed to use the high-grade explosives and—”

Prime sighed heavily in exasperation, pinching his nasal ridge between his fingers as he remembered the ‘requisitions forms’ Hec-Tor had put on his desk for such things. Even if they hadn’t been done in crayon, Prime still would have denied him his requests. “Hec-Tor, you are much too young to be fiddling with high-grade explosives,” he said sternly. 

Although Hec-Tor opened mouth as if he meant to argue, he seemed to think better of it—for once. His mouth closed again with an audible click, and his gaze dropped back down to the little bot he held in his hands. As it scuttled across his palms, Hec-Tor’s ears twitched and shifted forward in interest.

“Come along, little one,” Prime said, softer this time. When he offered Hec-Tor his hand, Hec-Tor took it without even sparing a glance away from his little bot. 066-5555 trailed along behind them.

As they made their way towards the main entrance to the Imperial Wing, they passed several Attendants, who bowed deeply at the waist. Prime paid them little mind, however, striding past them without so much as a word. Hec-Tor was too focused on his little tinkering project—and trying to keep up with Prime’s longer gait—to notice the Attendants, and he didn’t wave to them as he usually would have.

At the entrance to the Imperial Wing hung three portraits—personally commissioned by the late Horde Prime Ar-Tor years prior to his death of the Imperial family as it had consisted at the time. Prime had taken them from his father’s ship when it had been decommissioned following his death, hanging them in the  _ Velvet Glove _ instead of having them put into storage or destroyed. Hec-Tor did not have a presence in any of the portraits, however, as Prime hadn’t had any new portraits commissioned since he had been born. He didn’t think he had the strength to commission an artist to do portraits of just himself and Hec-Tor. Including their parents in the portrait would have been considered untraditional, but it also felt… wrong to not have them present. Although it had been years since his parents had left him, replacing their portraits felt like a betrayal, as though he was abandoning them in some fashion.

As they neared the portraits, Hec-Tor darted off with an excited chirp, making his way across the hallway to stand at the base of the portrait that depicted Horde Prime Ar-Tor. Immediately, Hec-Tor held up his little ‘battle bot’ and started rambling about it excitedly, as though Ar-Tor was actually there and listening what he was saying. Prime paused a couple of paces away, watching Hec-Tor rather than look the portrait of their father in the eye.

He still couldn’t bare to do so, as the last—and final—time he had held his father’s gaze was when he had to watch as his father’s life faded away.

According to the nurse who had aided in the delivery, it had been a very difficult birth, and the rather sudden death of Imperial Consort Nevere mere months prior had only made the situation worse. Prime and his father had still been in mourning at the time… he hadn’t even had time to process that his father had just passed away in childbirth before he had been ushered out of the room and left in the hallway alone without even having the chance to ask after the status of his sibling.

Nearly half an hour later, he had been handed a palm-sized pup, wrapped up tightly in a little black blanket that bore the Horde’s Wings in bright red. Prime was certain he still had that blanket stashed away somewhere in his room, and he could still vividly remember how Hec-Tor had let out the softest chirps he had ever heard in his life. He had immediately decided upon seeing his brother that he’d do anything to keep Hec-Tor safe.

… and then, less than a minute after being handed his brother, he had been informed that it would be a miracle if Hec-Tor survived infancy.

Prime sucked down a breath at the memories, hoping that Hec-Tor wouldn’t notice and question him about what was upsetting him. Thankfully, all of Hec-Tor’s attention had remained on explaining his little tinkering project. Prime watched him for another moment, how his ears had perked up entirely, how he was bouncing a little bit on his tiptoes as if he was having trouble containing all of his energy. Then, Prime’s gaze moved to the other portraits.

Beside the portrait of his father was a family portrait that had been commissioned when Prime was an adolescent. He had always held a certain fondness for it—the painter had depicted him as though his facial masking had already come in fully, when at the time, he still had several patches of blue across his face. In hindsight, he was glad his father had demanded such an alteration be made, as he would have otherwise looked rather silly in a portrait that was meant to inspire awe in those who saw it. In the portrait, he stood to his father’s right—prim, proper,  _ dignified _ —while his  _ ami _ stood at Horde Prime Ar-Tor’s left, with a refined, almost otherworldly grace.

Had Horde Prime Ar-Tor lived longer, perhaps the family portrait would have been redone in order to include Hec-Tor. In time, other portraits would have been done as the family expanded through marriage. As much as his father had loved his  _ ami _ , Prime was still well aware that there had always been the possibility of his father remarrying or taking additional spouses in light of Nevere’s passing. At the time of Horde Prime Ar-Tor’s death, Prime had been at the age where he would have been useful as a political bargaining chip for his father in order to gain alliances through marriage, rather than conquest. In hindsight, Prime was glad that his father had never gotten the chance to marry him off, as he held very little interest in marriage, even if it was for political benefit.

Besides, with his current circumstances being what they were, getting married was out of the question. Hec-Tor needed him more than a potential spouse did.

His gaze moved onto the third, and final, portrait in the line—the one that depicted his  _ ami _ , Imperial Consort Nevere. In life, Nevere had been one of the most successful generals that the Empire had ever seen, taking large swathes of territory in the name of the Emperor. Their infamy on the battlefield was supposedly one of the reasons that Prime’s father had fallen for them. In spite of their military successes, however, their portrait did not depict them as a military leader. Instead, they had been painted in the flashy robes that they had frequently worn around his father’s flagship, with their chest exposed and outlined with elaborate cutouts that varied from garment to garment but were all styled to emulate the Horde’s Wings. Prime had modeled his own wardrobe off of that of his  _ ami _ , although he had decided against leaving his thighs exposed as they had done.

In spite of his age, Hec-Tor already bore quite a bit of resemblance to Nevere. They shared the same large, bright red eyes, and judging by the facial features on the clones, when he was grown, Hec-Tor would take far more after Nevere. There were a few noticeable differences, of course. Where both Prime and Hec-Tor had inherited their father’s blue skin and white hair, Nevere’s hair and skin were the same soft shade of purple, and Prime had inherited Nevere’s chin spikes, where Hec-Tor seemingly hadn’t, judging by the features the clones displayed. However, neither of them had inherited the small marking that Nevere had their left check, just beside the outer corner of their eye—a spot where their facial masking had never come in fully, leaving behind the soft purple pigmentation that made up the rest of their skin.

Prime was abruptly wretched from his musing when a soft yelp came from his left, and one of his ears immediately swiveled in the direction of the sound. When he turned his head to look at his brother, he found that Hec-Tor was sucking on the tip of one of his fingers, as if he had cut or burned it. Prime moved without a second thought, kneeling beside his brother.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, reaching out to take hold of Hec-Tor’s wrist so he could check. The skin of Hec-Tor’s finger was unmarred, but that did little to quell Prime’s anxieties. “I only took my eyes off you for a moment. What did you do?”

Hec-Tor’s ears gave a confused little twitch at the tips. He stared at Prime with wide, surprised eyes, his mouth slightly agape. “I’m fine,” he said, without an ounce of concern on his features. “My bot just zapped me when I was trying to show Father its functions… that’s all.”

Still holding Hec-Tor wrist in one hand, Prime held out the other for the little ‘battle bot’. “Give it here.”

Tugging his arm free of Prime’s grasp, Hec-Tor took a step back, clutching the bot close to his chest. “But I’m _ fine _ ,” he insisted as his brow furrowed. “It doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

“It should not have hurt you in the first place,” Prime retorted. “Now, give it here!”

“But it’s  _ mine _ !” Hec-Tor hissed as an uncertain, frustrated pout appeared on his features—upset over the idea of one of his toys being taken away from him. “I can fix it so it doesn’t zap me again…” he said, voice tentative and pleading. “I promise I can do it!”

“Hec-Tor, do not make me repeat myself again,” Prime said, irritation plain in his tone as his patience began to wear thin. Why couldn’t Hec-Tor just  _ listen _ for once in his life? Why couldn’t he  _ understand _ that shocking himself on one of his little tinkering projects was dangerous?

“But that’s not  _ fair _ !” Hec-Tor shouted, his voice going shrill.

And then Hec-Tor lurched, letting out a soft, almost faint, wheezing groan in the back of his throat. His bright red eyes widened a fraction and seemed to roll back in his head before he collapsed where he stood, crumpling to the pristine, marbled floor.

“ _ Hec-Tor _ !”

Any lingering irritation he had evaporated as he gather his baby brother’s unconscious body up in his arms. Soft, frenetic whispers of ‘no’ left his lips so quickly he couldn’t even fully comprehend his own words. With a shaking hand, he pressed his fingers against the base of Hec-Tor’s jaw, checking for a pulse, and relief swelled in his chest when he felt the faint rhythm of Hec-Tor’s heartbeat beneath his fingertips. However, that alone was not enough to quell the anxiety prickling in Prime’s chest. Hec-Tor’s breathing was far too shallow… and he could have easily hit his head on the floor when he fell.

Prime desperately glanced around the hall, and his eyes landed upon 066-5555, who had been standing there the entire time, silently watching over Hec-Tor as he had been conditioned to do. Prime had forgotten the clone had even been there in the first place. 066-5555 stared back with wide eyes, his mouth agape in shock.

“Why are you just standing there?” Prime demanded venomously. “Go and get his medic!”

066-5555 did not need to be told twice. Without even bowing at the waist, he pivoted on his heel and took off into a sprint, disappearing around the corner at the end of the hall—back towards where the Imperial Creche was located. If he had any sense, he would find 010-1347 quickly and return immediately.

Hec-Tor let out a soft whimper in Prime’s arms, but he didn’t stir. Prime gathered him closer, remembering something 010-1347 had said about Hec-Tor having difficulty regulating his own body heat on account of his condition—something that most pups outgrew by the time they were past infancy. Surely body heat would help…

He remained knelt on the floor, cradling Hec-Tor in his arms and lightly threading his fingers through Hec-Tor’s snow white crest. He didn’t even notice 010-1347 rushing towards them until the clone’s feet entered his field of vision. When Prime glanced up, he noticed 010-1347 first—staring at him, brow ridge slightly pinched but otherwise rather clinical—and then 066-5555 and 099-0783 lingering at the end of the hallway. 066-5555’s eyes were still as wide as saucers, his mouth pressed into a hard line, while 099-0783 let out a soft gasp, bringing his hands to his mouth in shock.

“What happened, Your Majesty?” 010-1347 asked without prompting as he knelt down beside Prime. Without waiting for an answer, he reached out and began checking Hec-Tor over—behind his eyelids, lightly holding his wrist to check his pulse…

“He—he was being difficult,” Prime said simply. “We argued, and when he raised his voice, he collapsed.”

“I see,” 010-1347 said simply, tilting his head to the side. Then, he reached out, as if to take Hec-Tor from Prime’s arms.

Prime reeled back, holding Hec-Tor close to his chest as his ears flattened against the sides of his head. He realized a moment too late that he must have appeared startled, as 010-1347’s eyes widened a fraction in surprise.

Then, 010-1347 frowned. “Your Majesty, if this is serious, I must perform my examination now,” he said firmly.

For a moment, Prime still hesitated to hand his brother over—and he did not appreciate being ordered around by one of the Minders—but he took a deep breath, trying to calm his frazzled nerves. Much as he loathed to admit it, 010-1347 was correct. Tentatively, he passed Hec-Tor over to 010-1347, who was to his feet without pause. Pivoting on his heel, 010-1347 headed back the way he had come from, to return to the Creche, and Prime pushed himself back to his feet and followed mere steps behind.

He didn’t even comment on how 066-5555 and 099-0783 failed to bow low enough when he and 010-1347 strode past.

—

Prime didn’t know how much time had passed while he had been sitting here—it could have been mere minutes or several hours. To him, though, it felt like it had been days since Hec-Tor collapsed right in front of him.

On the opposite side of the Creche, 010-1347 stood at Hec-Tor’s bedside, monitoring him for any sudden changes. Despite 010-1347’s overt calmness over the situation, anxiety still nagged at Prime’s chest. His brother was still within his sight, and he could make out the soft rise and fall of Hec-Tor’s chest, but that did little to calm him. He eventually had to tear his gaze away, pressing his forehead into his hands as he breathed in deeply through his nose and our through his mouth.

A serving tray was set down heavily on the low table in front of him, but he barely even registered 099-0783’s presence at all until the Minder began carefully pouring him a cup of tea. He had not requested tea, and yet 099-0783 had brought it anyway. Was that a part of his conditioning? Prime couldn’t remember right, his mind racing as quickly as it was. If 099-0783 noticed Prime’s unease, he gave no indication as he lightly set the cup of tea down in front of him.

The sound of the cup clinking against its saucer cut through the air like a blaster shot.

“What is this?” Prime asked as he glanced up at 099-0783 through narrowed eyes.

“Tea,” 099-0783 said simply, half-turning away in such a way that the marred half of his face was hidden from view. “This blend is meant to help with nerves, your Majesty.” Then, he bowed at the waist before retreating again, leaving behind the teapot and accompanying sweet cakes on the tray, along with the cup of tea that had already been poured.

Prime considered the cup sitting on the table before him, watching the steam rise and swirl through the air. Then, tentatively, he reached out, gripping the cup with both hands. It was an undignified way to drink tea, but he couldn’t trust his hands to stop shaking long enough for him to take a sip without dropping it. Sucking down a deep breath, he tried to banish the image of Hec-Tor collapsing in the middle of the hallway from his mind, and took a long sip of the brew that had been offered to him.

“Do you require assistance, Zero-Ten?”

099-0783’s voice was little more than a soft whisper, but Prime caught it over the ambient hum of the  _ Velvet Glove’s _ life support systems. When he glanced up from his tea, he found that 099-0783 had settled on the edge of Hec-Tor’s bed. Though his question had been addressed at 010-1347, he was not looking at his fellow Minder. Rather, 099-0783’s gaze was trained on Hec-Tor as he reached out to gently smooth Hec-Tor’s messy, snow white hair back out of his eyes. His expression was nothing short of pained—brow ridge pinched, ears tips nearly brushing against his shoulders.

“It is much easier to take heart rates without distraction, Ninety-Nine,” 010-1347 drawled before giving a dismissive flick of his ears. “Now, shoo.”

099-0783’s ears gave a distinctive—almost annoyed—twitch before he rose back to his feet and retreated from the room without another word. Presumably, he was going to attend to his duties elsewhere. It was around the time that Hec-Tor would normally take his lunch along with his medications. Prime took another deep breath before he brought the tea cup to his lips again.

“Your Majesty,” 010-1347 spoke up from the other side of the room. “A word.”

Prime was out of his seat in an instant, hastily setting his cup to the side. “What did you find?” he asked as he crossed the room to be at Hec-Tor’s bedside.

“It would seem that Prince Hec-Tor has developed a heart murmur,” 010-1347 said, more bluntly than he should have. “He’s stable and seems to be otherwise unaffected, but without further testing, I cannot say for certain if it is related to the syncope—”

“… the what?” Prime cut in, not recognizing the term.

“The fainting spell,” 010-1347 stated, with an almost exasperated undertone to his voice. “Right now, it does not seem to be life threatening. This is the first time this has happened, and there seems to be lead up to these episodes. The Minders will be able to assess when he might need—”

“Lead up?” Prime repeated.

010-1347 glanced at him. One of his ears flicked in surprise. “Prince Hec-Tor was complaining of feeling light-headed this morning,” he said as his gaze moved back to his charge. “Initially, I had taken it as a sign he had been dehydrated, but it could be related to the onset of a fainting spell. It is likely that the argument you and he had caused a sudden change in blood pressure that led to his fainting episode.”

Prime could only sigh, pinching his nasal ridge between his fingers. “Let me guess—there is nothing that can be done.”

010-1347 blinked owlishly at him, mouth slightly agape in a rare show of surprise. “Your Majesty, this is a condition that is easily manageable—”

There was that word again.  _ Manageable _ , as if there wasn’t a single way to cure Hec-Tor so that he not longer had to suffer from the myriad of conditions that had plagued him since he was a newborn. And here was yet another one to add onto the pile.

“—when he awakens, it will be easy enough to ask him how he was feeling prior to fainting,” 010-1347 was saying as he scrolled through his datapad. “That way, it will be easy to move him to a safe location when another one comes on, so he doesn’t faint in the middle of the hallway again.”

Prime let out a soft, irritated hiss through his teeth. “And that is the best you can do?”

010-1347 did not seem to be overly concerned. “There is only so much one  _ can _ do,” he said simply, glancing at Hec-Tor again. His gaze softened, and he made as if to stroke Hec-Tor’s hair, as 099-0783 had done mere minutes before. However, he caught himself, fingers curling so his talons bit at the exposed flesh of his palms. “And it is not my place to lie to you, regardless, Your Majesty,” he added, softer and more serenely this time. Without another word, he looked to the door, ears flicking as though he was listening for something—perhaps for the return of 099-0783.

“I do not want him to do anything else today,” Prime stated firmly.

For a moment, 010-1347 said nothing as he looked back at his datapad. He scrolled through whatever he had opened on the screen, as if he was searching for something in particular. Prime could see the reverse image from where he stood, but he couldn’t make out any of the information that was listed there. He assumed it was Hec-Tor’s health charts.

“Unless he has a concussion, or continues to complain of feeling lightheaded, I do not think that is necessary, Your Majesty,” 010-1347 argued. There was the slightest hint of bite to his voice, and one corner of his mouth had twitched downward.

Prime’s lip curled back with a flash of canine as he rose and loomed over 010-1347. “You are not conditioned to  _ think _ ,” he retorted in a low hiss as he advanced on 010-1347, who hastily stepped back but met his glare head-on with one of his own. “He is  _ my _ brother, and if I do not want him to push himself after he just  _ fainted _ —”

Then, a soft whimper came from his left. Prime’s rage immediately evaporated as his attention was dragged away from the insolent Minder to his darling baby brother. Hec-Tor blinked slowly, eyes unfocused as he tried to get his bearings again. As he shakily tried to sit up, Prime sat down on the edge of the bed and gather Hec-Tor up in his arms again.

“How are you feeling, little one?” Prime asked.

“My head hurts,” Hec-Tor mumbled. “What happened?”

010-1347 stepped forward, holding a small light in his hands. “You collapsed, my Prince,” he said calmly before holding up one of his fingers. “This will be uncomfortable—it’s a bright light—but you need to look here so I can check you for a concussion. You hit your head on the tile.”

Hec-Tor did as he was told, even though his mouth pressed into a hard line as 010-1347 shined the light directly into his eye. “I collapsed?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” Prime said, threading his fingers through Hec-Tor’s hair. “You gave me quite the fright, little one… I thought you might have been…” he trailed off and did not finish his thought. Instead, he sighed heavily, his ears twitching in exasperation. “Hec-Tor, why did you not tell me that you were feeling lightheaded?”

Hec-Tor said nothing immediately, his ears drooping in a clear show of guilt. “I… I didn’t think it was bad…” he finally admitted.

010-1347 stepped back, tucking the light against his palm as he made a note on his datapad. “He has not concussion… you can move now, my Prince.”

At that, Hec-Tor perked up, just a little bit. Then, he began squirming to get free of Prime’s grasp. “So, I can go?”

“ _ No _ ,” Prime said firmly, and he realized a moment too late that his expression could have easily lapsed to betray his anxiety that the thought of Hec-Tor wandering the halls after he had just suffered a fainting spell. He took a deep breath to calm himself again, and forced a smile. “We are going to stay here for the rest of the day.”

Hec-Tor peered at him with a pout, seeming unconvinced. “… you aren’t busy?”

Prime flicked his ears dismissively. “I am the Emperor,” he stated simply, bringing a hand to his chest. “If I do not want to work, I simply do not have to. And right at this moment, my baby brother needs me more than the Empire does.”

The statement seemed to brighten Hec-Tor’s spirits, and his eyes lit up in excitement. “I can show you my projects!” he said excitedly, wiggling free of Prime’s grasp and sliding off of the bed. He hurried over to the other side of the Creche, where a bunch of his tinkering projects were… haphazardly organized. Most of them appeared to be about the same size as the ‘battle bot’ that Hec-Tor had been carrying with him earlier, although none of them were spherical like that bot had been. 

Prime couldn’t even begin to guess what half of them even did, but he said nothing and took a deep breath, massaging his temples in exasperation. Then, while Hec-Tor was distracted, he turned his gaze back onto 010-1347. “As he does not have a concussion, you are dismissed for now,” he hissed out through his teeth in a low voice—low enough that Hec-Tor was unlikely to notice or hear.

010-1347’s eyes narrowed a fraction, seemingly in confusion. Prime was waiting for him to snark back, but 010-1347 merely dipped into a low bow. He cast one final—almost concerned—look over his shoulder in Hec-Tor’s direction as he left the room.


	4. Part IV

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's death in this one, just fair warning

When the  _ Velvet Glove _ had originally been constructed, Prime had made sure to include several amenities in the design plans that served absolutely zero purpose outside of entertainment. The gardens were one such place. 

While he had spent most of his life aboard ships, traveling the cosmos, on his late father’s ship, there had been a rather expansive garden that had spanned several sub-decks. When he was young—probably little older than Hec-Tor was now—he had often accompanied his father to the gardens. Especially when  _ ami _ had been away, overseeing battles on the front in the name of the Emperor. His father had enjoyed gardening quite a bit, gathering specimens from the planets they conquered to add to his ever expanding collection. Several of the specimens within Prime’s garden had actually been taken from his father’s ship when it had been decommissioned following his death, and he still tended to them every day, ensuring they survived where his father had not.

Today, he was checking over the leaves of one such plant, a  _ polan _ tree, for signs of disease. Prime could not remember its planet of origin, but it might have been taken before he was actively involved in the Empire’s expansion efforts, under his father’s direction. If all was well, the tree would soon bear fruit that was deep purple in coloration and had a very sweet taste. As he worked, one of his ears was swiveled around to listen behind him. Hec-Tor was on the far side of the gardens, trotting around along the edge of a flowerbed with 099-0783 dutifully following a couple of paces behind him.

So far, it had been a good day. Hec-Tor had not said anything about feeling lightheaded, he had eaten both his breakfast and his lunch without complaint as his appetite hadn’t left him, and he had had enough energy to talk Prime’s ear off about one of his newest ideas for those little tinkering projects he liked so much. Recently, he had even started putting on a little bit of weight when he normally struggled to keep it consistent. 

He had also started questioning why his weekly blood tests were even necessary, rather than just pouting and putting out his arm in the morning for 010-1347 to take the amount necessary for his tests. Always such a spirited little thing…

Prime wanted to be relieved—truly, he did—but there was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that this was all too good to be true. That Hec-Tor would soon suffer another downswing, one he would not recover from. Gritting his teeth, he snipped off the end of a branch with more force than he really needed to and moved onto the next, trying to clear his head of negative thoughts like that. It was tempting fate at this point.

“My Prince, get out of the flowerbed,” 099-0783 was saying. “You are going to dirty your robes.”

Hec-Tor let out an irritated groan, but seemed to do as he was told, as 099-0783 did not have to repeat himself. “I don’t even have an appearance today,” he grumbled, voice low enough that he probably thought Prime could not hear him. “Because Anillis won’t let me do  _ anything _ !”

099-0783 gave a soft hum that Prime could only take as a noise of amusement. “For not being allowed to do anything, you certainly find yourself in a lot of trouble,” he said, almost teasingly. “This is the third time today I’ve had to fix your hair, and you only just had your lunch.”

If Hec-Tor said anything in response, Prime didn’t catch it. Rather, he focused on carefully stepping over a couple of lower lying plants and gnarled roots to check over the branches of the  _ polan _ tree that were more out of the way. Once both of his feet were back on the ground, and he had steadied himself again, he spared a glance over to his baby brother. Hec-Tor was frowning down at the grass, seeming to have been lost in thought as his ears flicked nervously at the tips. 099-0783 was knelt in the grass beside him, carefully straightening his hair and smoothing it back out of his face.

“… Nan?” Hec-Tor finally said, his voice little more than a whisper. Prime barely caught it over the low, ambient hum of the life support systems.

Much to Prime’s annoyance, 099-0783 did not correct or remind Hec-Tor to use his serial number. “Yes, my Prince?” he said instead, carefully continuing his work to set Hec-Tor’s hair right again.

“Do… do you think I should ask  _ now _ ?” Hec-Tor’s voice was hesitant, worried. A frustrated pouted replaced his frown as his ears flicked downward. His talons dug into the pristine white fabric of his robes, threatening to tear them. “… what if Anillis says no?”

For a moment, 099-0783 said nothing, his talons stilling in Hec-Tor’s crest of snow white hair. “Then he says no,” he said simply. “You won’t know until you ask.”

As Prime listened to the conversation, he contemplated another branch that was showing signs of disease. His ears twitched in annoyance as he listened, and a frown appeared on his features, pinching his brow ridge. He pruned the diseased branch back as a soft hiss left his lips. He had no idea what Hec-Tor and his Minder were talking about, and that was perhaps the most frustrating thing he had encountered in a while.

Admittedly, he had fallen out of the habit of delving into the thoughts of Hec-Tor’s Minders, even though it was in his best interest to ensure they stayed on track and didn’t deviate from their purpose. However, the war effort had proven to be…  _ distracting _ . It took up far more of his time than it had in a very long time—perhaps since he had assumed the throne all those years ago. Monitoring Hec-Tor’s Minders had slipped his mind.

His ears flicked, swiveling back in Hec-Tor’s direction as he heard his baby brother trot across the grass again. However, rather than dive into the flowerbed, he stopped along the edge. There was a pause, as though Hec-Tor’s nerve was beginning to waver…

“ _ Go on _ …” came 099-0783’s soft, encouraging whisper, and Prime sliced his shears through a perfectly healthy branch without meaning to at the warmth in the Minder’s voice.

“Do you need something, Hec-Tor?” Prime questioned, voice stiff as he made his way out from around the  _ polan _ tree and carefully stepped over the low-lying plants, out onto the grass. Hec-Tor was hovering at the flowerbed’s edge, wringing his hands into the fabric of his skirts, while 099-0783 lingered behind him, bowed ever-so-slightly at the waist and resting his hands lightly on Hec-Tor’s shoulders. Such a stance would normally have been accompanied by a warning glare and show of canines, but 099-0783’s face was the picture of serenity. He seemed to be standing there mostly for  _ Hec-Tor’s _ benefit and ease of mind, rather than any kind of show of force.

“Um…” Hec-Tor began, ears flicking nervously as he noticed the stiffness in Prime’s tone. He spared a glance back at 099-0783, who gave a slight nod and small smile, before Hec-Tor took a deep breath. “There’s—You—You said that there was a gala coming up soon!” Hec-Tor said. If the set of his ears and shoulders hadn’t betrayed his nervousness, the stutter in his voice certainly would have. “At dinner, a couple of nights ago, I mean… I—I thought maybe I could—”

“You are  _ far _ too fragile to attend such an event, Hec-Tor,” Prime said as he carefully contemplated the train of his robes for any dirt that might have caught on it while he was fiddling with the  _ polan _ tree. “What would happen if you  _ fainted _ in the middle of it?”

“But—but—” Hec-Tor cut off with a frustrated hiss, and the tips of his ears tinged blue. However, there was a determined crease in his brow, and his ears flattened to be nearly parallel to his shoulders. “I haven’t fainted in weeks! And D—” he paused, and his ears gave the slightest of twitches, betraying his underlying nervousness, in spite of his outward confidence. “A-And 010-1347 said that I’m getting better!”

“Your condition being  _ managed _ does mean that you are well enough to attend a gala, little one,” Prime retorted. He had never heard 010-1347 say that Hec-Tor was ‘getting better’. The Minder had always referred to Hec-Tor’s condition as  _ managed _ or  _ stabilized _ .

Hec-Tor’s eyes widened to the size of saucers, his mouth slightly agape as he stared up at Prime, seeming to be utterly dumbfounded that simply asking for what he wanted hadn’t worked. For a brief, blissfully quiet moment, Prime thought that might have been the end of it, and Hec-Tor would let this go and accept he couldn’t go.

But then Hec-Tor’s expression hardened again into the makings of determination.

“I’m not a pup!” he insisted—even though he was. His facial masking hadn’t even started coming in yet, and the top of his head had yet to reach Prime’s waist. “I think I can handle an hour or two at one of your… your  _ little events _ !”

The tips of Prime’s ears flicked in amusement at Hec-Tor’s newfound and rather sudden ferocity. Such  _ spirit _ …

If only he could have found a way to harness that spirit and channel it into something  _ constructive _ , rather than those little projects of Hec-Tor’s that he was so enamored with, even when they more often than not led to dead-ends. Still, Prime was rather intrigued to see how well 099-0783 had done in preparing Hec-Tor for interacting with court, even if he had been hoping that when Hec-Tor had made his first official appearance, he would have been healthier.

It was no matter, though. They would make due with what they had. This could be a learning opportunity and perhaps if Hec-Tor’s curiosity was sated, and he realized that galas were horribly boring affairs—especially for a young prince who didn’t know anybody—he would stop asking about them.

“Very well,” Prime finally said.

Hec-Tor seemed genuinely surprised and for a moment, he could only stare up at Prime in shock. And then, his ears perked and elation appeared on his features. There was a sparkle to his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and Prime found that a small smile had appeared on his lips at the sight.

“You’re really letting me go?” Hec-Tor asked, bouncing a little bit on his toes, barely able to hold in his energy.

“Yes,” Prime said, tilting his head. “But you are to remain within my line of sight at all times, unless 099-0783 or 066-5555 are accompanying you. They will escort you to the gala, where you will be allowed to remain for an hour or two before being escorted back to your room. If you show any signs of a fainting spell, you will be escorted out, and if your health does not permit on the day of, you will not be allowed to attend in the first place.”

Hec-Tor’s elation died somewhat, his ears visibly drooping. “Okay.”

“Oh, chin up, little one,” Prime said in a low, soothing lilt as he knelt down in front of Hec-Tor in the grass. He reached out and lightly held Hec-Tor’s cheek in his hand, and after a moment, Hec-Tor pressed into the touch, managing a small smile. “These restrictions are for your own good… even our closest allies would take you fainting as a sign of weakness to exploit. It leaves you vulnerable, Hec-Tor. I only wish to protect you from their ire.”

—

The galas that Prime held aboard the Velvet Glove every couple of months were something of infamy, and it was honor to even be considered for an invitation. From celebrations of new treaties to recognizing important dates on the Imperial calendar, there were few things that Prime couldn’t have made into an event if he wished it. Even the most minor successes may have had extravagant celebrations attached to them.

He had to placate those under his control, after all, and he did so with honeyed words and alcohol. But even if his subjects were very easily manipulated, keeping hold of them could prove, at times, to be a challenge. 

The Attendants, in comparison, were simple. They were conditioned from emergence to fulfill their duties without complaint, and the ports installed at the base of their necks allowed for them to be easily rendered comatose if the situation called for it. In addition, they had chips installed in their heads, creating a mental bridge between them and himself that allowed him to see their thoughts and memories if he chose to delve deeper than surface feelings.

One might have described his decision to exercise so much control over his servants as ‘overkill’. However, Prime knew that he would have never been able to trust such a large body of workers unless he could be absolutely certain of what was going through their heads at any given time. His childhood had been plagued by assassination attempts against his father, and Hec-Tor was in a delicate enough position that someone could easily harm him if they were allowed too close.

A couple of Attendants were circling the room now with pitchers of wine, refilling the glasses of those who needed more drink in their systems. Around them, the entire room was alive with energy as people mingled, and to Prime’s right, Hec-Tor stood atop the dais, beside his throne. His bright red eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape in an expression that was rather unbecoming of a prince, but Prime was willing to let that slide for now.

Hec-Tor was still young, after all. There was plenty of time to teach and mold him.

“Are you enjoying yourself, little one?” Prime asked as he lounged in his seat, crossing one leg over the other and raised his wine to his lips.

“It’s… loud?” Hec-Tor said with an uncertain edge to his voice. “Are they always like this?”

Prime chuckled softly, his ears twitching in amusement as he drained what was left in his glass. “You’ll grow accustomed to them, in time,” he said, drumming his fingers against the arm of the throne. His talon guard clicked against the metal, and for such a quiet sound, it seemed to echo across the dais. Without a word, an Attendant hurried over to them to refill Prime’s outstretched glass.

“Assuming you behave—”

“I always behave,” Hec-Tor retorted under his breath.

“Hec-Tor, we’ve talked about your mumbling,” Prime said, shooting Hec-Tor a warning glance over the top of his wine glass. “Stand up straight and speak clearly when you talk.”

For a moment, it appeared as though Hec-Tor was going to argue with him. His brow pinched, his ears flattened, and an irritated pout appeared on his lips. But then, he seemed to think better of it, and instead adjusted his posture—straightening his back, squaring his slowly broadening shoulders, and tucking his hands at the small of his back. It was the posture that Prime often took when he was meant to be presenting himself as an Emperor, and Hec-Tor was mimicking it well. He still lacked much of the same affect that Prime held, but he would get there, in time.

Prime shifted in his seat and leaned his weight against the armrest that Hec-Tor was standing beside. Any lingering traces of annoyance disappeared from his features as he glanced at Prime. His bright red eyes were wide and curious again. One of his ears perked up at an odd angle in a truly endearing manner, and miraculously, his hair was relatively neat for once. Usually, his hair was impossible to control and had to be straightened multiple times a day. Even then, there were always a couple of flocks that stuck out at odd angles.

Much to his chagrin, Prime had similar unmanageable flocks in his own hair, but he had thankfully had the foresight to grow his hair out years ago. The thickness of it allowed the weight to hide any imperfections he didn’t want people to see, especially when he pulled it back within the apparatus that was at the base of his skull. It was just as well, though. He hated the texture and smell of the gel that the Attendants and Minders wore to keep their own hair in place.

Even though Hec-Tor’s hair was not in need of fixing, Prime reached out to thread his talons through it anyway. Hec-Tor allowed him to do so without complaining at all—not about how he didn’t like having his hair smoothed back, or how he absolutely hated the gel that had been put into his hair, or how he didn’t understand why how his hair looked mattered so much… Prime allowed himself to smile as he turned to reach out for his wine glass again, mood already improving.

“I trust your Minder prepped you on some of our visitors?” Prime asked as he lounged against the arm of his throne and peered over the lip of his wine glass at his baby brother.

Hec-Tor stole a quick glance over to the base of the dais, where 099-0783 was standing with several other Attendants and 066-5555. A smile pulled at Hec-Tor’s lips and he stood just a little bit straighter, seeming to regain his confidence when he remembered his Minders were mere feet away. “Yes,” he finally said, nodding quickly. “He did.”

“I am pleased to hear that,” Prime said, although his eyes narrowed a fraction at the Minders… just for a moment, and then he looked away. His eyes roved over their guests instead, taking stock of who had decided to attend. That was when he noticed someone familiar approaching the throne, hand-in-hand with a child who appeared to be around Hec-Tor’s age, comparatively speaking. 

They were both of the Thera people—large and cat-like, with fluffy ears, furred bodies, and clawed hands. The Thera were amongst his largest trading partners, and kept the Empire’s coffers well stocked, as they had in the time of Prime’s father. With them under his control, Prime had been able to increase his medicinal research endeavors ten-fold… he bit back the disappointment that none of it seemed to be amounting to anything, and glanced over at Hec-Tor again.

“Do you recognize who is approaching the dais, little one?” he asked in a low voice, hiding his mouth behind his wine glass.

Hec-Tor glanced at Prime before following his line of sight, and his ears gave a noticeable, nervous flick. However, there was also a sparkle of something in his eyes. Intrigue, perhaps? Hec-Tor had never met someone his own age before, and the idea of doing so now seemed to be piquing his curiosity.

“Queen Miraj?” he finally tried, although one of his ears tilted as if he was unsure of his answer.

“Very good, little one,” Prime praised him with a smile, watching Miraj and her son’s approach out of the corner of his eye. “And the boy?”

“Umm…” Hec-Tor mumbled as he worried his lip between his teeth, threatening to break through the skin there as he thought. He didn’t get a chance to answer, though.

When Queen Miraj reached the base of the dais, she swept into a delicate bow. Her son glanced at her and attempted to mimic her, but his execution was less than graceful.

“Are we not friends, Miraj?” Prime asked, although it was not a necessary question. He had known Miraj since they were younger, mostly on in terms of their working relationship… occasionally on a pleasure basis. While Prime was not inclined to think of Miraj as a confidant, he did consider her an ally. One he certainly wanted to keep a hold of. “There is no need for that.”

Miraj rose back to her full height as a smile graced her lips. “Of course, Your Majesty,” she said. “I merely wished to show my appreciation for you so graciously inviting me and my son—” She nudged her son forward, and the boy flinched beneath Prime’s gaze. “Surely you’ve heard of my son, Kin?”

Prime had, of course. Miraj never wasted an opportunity to mention how dedicated her son was to his studies. It could be grating at times, but he had endured it in the past simply because it hurt nothing to let her speak.

“I’ve heard of him,” Hec-Tor spoke up suddenly, although his voice was softer and meeker than he had likely intended for it to be. When Miraj glanced in his direction, color bloomed across his cheeks and ears, and he nervously cleared his throat. “I-I mean…” he said. “My Minder said that you have achieved very high marks in your scientific courses—”

Prime withheld his sigh and resisted the urge to knock back the rest of his wine. Of course Hec-Tor would fixate on that. Of course, he would.

Miraj’s entire expression lit up, and she nudged her son—although Kin looked detached, as if he did not want to be there at all and was making zero attempts to hide his expression. “Kin could show you some of his studies, couldn’t you, dear?”

Kin hesitated, frowning deeply, but at a glare from his mother, he reluctantly nodded.

Hec-Tor glanced at Prime, and there was a pleading look in his eyes. He had never had a chance to interact with kids his own age before, much less ones who seemed to share his interests.

Prime sighed, waving him off. “As long as 099-0783 goes with you,” he said, although he did fix a stern look upon his baby brother. “And do not leave the room.”

“I won’t,” Hec-Tor said over his shoulder as he quickly descended the stairs, and 099-0783 broke off from the other Attendants to follow after his charge and Kin.

Miraj watched them go, seeming rather pleased with herself. “Your Majesty, was the Attendant truly necessary?” she asked offhandedly, glancing up at him. “They can hardly get to know each other if they have someone hovering at their backs.”

Prime’s grip on his wine glass tightened, but he merely smiled over the rim. “I do not sacrifice Hec-Tor’s safety for anything, Miraj,” he said simply. “And you would also do well to not get lost in your ego.”

Although Queen Miraj was an ally of the Empire, and Prime considered her an ally—possibly even a friend—he was was well aware that she was also rather hungry for power and solidifying her influence within court. Arranging her son in marriage to Hec-Tor would have been an easy way to cement her influence, permanently. In the past, she had offered herself up to Prime, but he had denied her as he held very little interest in taking a spouse of his own. Hec-Tor, on the other hand, was still far too young to be considered for such things—and far too sickly. The only reason Miraj was interested in wedding her son to Hec-Tor was because his health problems were not known outside of those who Prime wished to know of it. Nobody would have been interested otherwise, of that Prime was certain.

Miraj’s smile became tight, but she merely dipped into a low, graceful bow without acknowledging that she had overstepped. “Of course, your Majesty,” she said simply, before she took her leave.

Prime watched her melt back into the crowd through narrowed eyes before he turned back to his drink. 

Tipping his head back, he finished off the last of his wine. Some of the liquid escaped out past his lips, following the line of his jaw and dripping from his chin. An Attendant hurried forward without a word to refill his glass, tipping in yet another serving of the dark liquid. Then, the Attendant disappeared, weaving his way through the crowd until he was out of sight, refilling glasses as he went.

A crack cut through the ambient hum of the throne room—the sound of a fist meeting flesh—although Prime paid it little mind. It would not have been the first fight that had broken out during one of his parties, and he doubted it would have been the last either. Alcohol had a way of making people act unlike themselves, and even the most demure of guests could become rowdy if they had a sip too much.

Prime, however, was unconcerned. The Attendants that stood guard around the room were trained to break up such disputes before ensuring everyone involved would be brought before him to apologize for disturbing the peace. Then, they were to be sent home in disgrace—with their titles still in tact, if they were lucky.

As he raised his glass back to his lips, there was a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision—a flash of the Horde’s Wings, black standing out starkly against otherwise pristine white. When he noticed the Attendant’s movement through the crowd as he approached the dais in a rush, Prime straightened in his seat, lowering his glass.

And then he noticed the expression on the Attendant’s face. Ears slightly drooped, brow pinched, mouth set in a hard line. Eyes—monochromatic, citrine green like they should have been—wide as saucers.

“My Emperor,” the Attendant said, dipping into a quick—but still low—bow as he reached the base of the dais. He sounded about as desperate as any clone was truly capable of being. “It’s Prince Hec-Tor… he has been involved in an altercation.”

Prime’s glass slipped through his fingers, crashing to the floor in a cascade of crystal and dark wine. His heart leapt into his throat as he realized the punch he had heard being thrown just moments before had likely been directed at his baby brother. He was out of his seat in an instant, without even waiting for the Attendant to explain the situation further. He took a sharp turn at the base of the dais, heading in the direction he had seen Hec-Tor disappear in with Prince Kin.

As Prime made his way through the crowd—pushing past some, while others noticed who was walking past and moved out of his way—all of the worse case scenarios ran through his mind. The most prominent was of Hec-Tor lying broken on the floor of the hall, staring up at the ceiling with dead, lifeless eyes because Prime had been foolish enough to let him out of his sight for more than a few moments in such a dangerous place. Allowing Hec-Tor to attend this gala in the first place had been a mistake on his part. A gross oversight that he would never allow himself to repeat.

Hec-Tor would never be allowed to come to another one of these events ever again. That would certainly keep Hec-Tor safe, Prime decided as he pushed his way through the crowd that was rapidly forming. He was prepared to see his brother lying on the floor, in need of medical attention and…

… and Hec-Tor was not the one on the floor with a bloody nose.

No, Hec-Tor did not appear to have a single scratch on him. The only indication he had been involved in a fight at all was the bright fuchsia blood on his knuckles that must have come from punching Prince Kin across the face and knocking him to the floor. Profanities in their mother tongue—that Hec-Tor was far too young to be uttering, and Prime found himself wondering where Hec-Tor even learned such language—were leaving Hec-Tor’s mouth as he struggled against 099-0783’s hold, trying to break free. Had his Minder not been there, Hec-Tor likely would have rushed the other boy and continued trying to punch him.

Prime was too stunned to say anything. He hadn’t even been aware that Hec-Tor  _ could _ punch someone hard enough to give them a bloody nose and knock them flat on their ass. 066-555 hadn’t been told to teach Hec-Tor anything like that, as it hadn’t been needed. Hec-Tor was never going to see active combat anyway.

Across from Hec-Tor, Prince Kin was pushing himself to his feet. Blood cascaded down his face from his nose as he glared at Hec-Tor. 099-0783’s reaction was immediate as he shifted, twisted how he and Hec-Tor were standing so that he was shielding Hec-Tor with his body. His lips curled back into the makings of a snarl and Kin was quick to mirror him in spite of being so small compared to 099-0783.

“ _ Enough _ !” Prime finally said, and the hall around them immediately fell silent.

099-0783’s movements were subtle as he rose to his feet, but he put himself between Hec-Tor and Prime, as if trying to shield Hec-Tor from what he perceived to be Prime’s ire. Hec-Tor went still, his eyes widening as he peeked out from around 099-0783, meeting Prime’s gaze, and Prince Kin said nothing as his blood dripped down onto his dress shirt, staining the fabric.

“What is going on here?” Prime questioned.

“Just a little misunderstanding, my Emperor,” 099-0783 said, in an almost placating tone. However, he also avoided Prime’s gaze—on some level, he must have felt as though he was lying.

Prime peered at Prince Kin next—the boy said nothing as he hastily tried to wipe his nose, as if that would somehow fix his appearance. The fur of his face was still stained burgundy, and he was utterly ruffled, unbecoming at a glance.

“Is that true?” Prime questioned, keeping his tone even. However, even though he hadn’t raised his voice at all, Prince Kin still looked as though he was going to die of fright.

“Y-Yes, your Majesty,” the boy stuttered, digging his claws into his palms.

Prime let out an irritable hiss and dismissed the boy with a hand wave. Prince Kin turned tail and ran, disappearing back into the crowd to go and find his mother… Prime would smooth things over with Queen Miraj later, but he wasn’t going to worry about that now. His narrowed eyes roamed over the crowd, and the onlookers seemed to have enough sense to disperse. Only then did Prime turn his gaze back onto his baby brother.

Hec-Tor stared back, ears drooping and expression falling. His lower lip was quivering as if he was about to start crying. “Anillis, I didn’t—”

Prime ignored him and instead looked at 099-0783. “I think it is time for Prince Hec-Tor to take his leave,” he said in a low voice.

099-0783’s ears flicked nervously at the tips, but he said nothing and merely dipped his head. Then, he laid a hand on the back of Hec-Tor’s shoulders, guiding his forward and towards the doors that would lead them out of the room.

“And 099-0783?” Prime said, looking over his shoulder. The Minder paused, but didn’t turn around, shoulders stiffening. “I expect to see you and the other Minders this evening, after Hec-Tor has been put down for the evening.”

“Of course, my Emperor,” 099-0783 said.

And this time, he wasn’t able to keep the shake from his voice.

—

_ Click. Click. Click. Click. _

The faint sound of Prime’s talon guard drumming against the arm of his throne echoed quietly across the throne room. Lounging in his seat, he watched the doors to the room, unable to muster the patience to mask his annoyance. When he had told the Minders to come after the gala had concluded—long after Hec-Tor would have been put to bed for the evening—he had assumed they’d have more sense than to keep him waiting. 

_ Click. Click. Click. _

His patience had already been worn thin by the events that had transpired that evening, and while he didn’t know exactly what had happened that had made Hec-Tor act out like that, he was going to find out. Preferably, he would hear it right from the mouths of the Minder who had been there. Failing that, Prime would dig around through 099-0783’s head and extract what he needed. It would be little trouble to find out exactly what had happened to have prompted Hec-Tor to punch the son of one of Prime’s wealthiest allies. Though he had managed to smooth over what happened with the boy’s mother, Prime did not want a repeat of the situation in the future…

_ Click. Click. _

The Attendants flanking him on either side of the dais said nothing, their blank gazes trained straight ahead. The two of them were like statues, unmoving and awaiting orders. Fulfilling their purpose without a word, without a sound, and without a single complaint. The only time the Attendants acted out of line was when Hec-Tor was around…

_ Click. Cli— _

Prime’s talon guard paused against the arm of the throne when the doors on the far side of the throne room finally eased open. 066-5555 appeared first, holding the door open for his fellow Minders. 099-0783 entered next, while 010-1347 trailed a couple of paces behind him.

“You’re late,” Prime said stiffly, contemplating his talons as he allowed his posture to relax. He did not meet any of their gazes, but he could  _ feel _ the unease rolling off of 099-0783 and 066-5555. It tugged at the back of his mind like wisps of smoke curling through the air. In contrast, 010-1347 did not seem concerned at all by their predicament, and that alone was enough to set Prime’s teeth on edge.

099-0783 stopped at the foot of the dais and dipped at the waist, while 010-1347 and 066-5555 paused a couple of feet back. Although they were currently not needed, nor was their presence necessary, Prime had a point to make.

“Apologies, your Majesty,” 099-0783 said softly, in that same placating tone he had used earlier during the gala. “Prince Hec-Tor was…” he trailed off, pausing to think of his wording. “Prince Hec-Tor needed time to calm down before he could be put to bed.”

“Is that so?” Prime asked airily, finally looking away from his talons to meet 099-0783’s citrine green eyes.

The Minder stared back, mouth set in a nervous, hard line. “Yes, your Majesty,” he said simply.

“099-0783, do you know why I have called you and your fellow Minders here this evening?” Prime said next, speaking as though he was scolding an insolent child.

Behind 099-0783, the other two Minders exchanged an almost wary glance. Only now had the concern appeared on 010-1347’s face, minute as it was, and 066-5555 was worrying his lip between his teeth. His hands shifted, as if he was suddenly unable to keep them still. And all the while, 099-0783 was hesitating to answer, even though he knew exactly why he was here.

“… because of the altercation at your gala, my Emperor,” 099-0783 finally said, and though his voice was quiet, it echoed around the otherwise silent room. Then, his ears flicked and his jaw tensed, as if he was clenching it. “But Prince Hec-Tor did not mean to—”

“Silence,” Prime said, tone even. He did not need to raise his voice to make 099-0783 be quiet. “Whether or not my brother intended to do anything, he still acted in an unbecoming manner. I believe I made it clear that he was to be taught how to behave in a public space? Did you fail in your purpose, 099-0783?”

099-0783 hesitated again, his ears flicking nervously against the sides of his head. “Prince Hec-Tor is a child, Your Majesty. While he should not have resorted to violence—”

“I am not interested in what Hec-Tor should and should not have done, 099-0783,” Prime said with a dismissive flick of his ears. Then, he leaned his cheek against his fist. “I am, however, very interested in the ‘why’.”

This time, 099-0783 was silent. He didn’t try to defend Hec-Tor’s actions again, nor did he make any attempt to defend  _ himself  _ as Prime delved into his head, searching through his most recent memories. Fleeting though the memories were, they painted a revealing picture.

The first clear image that Prime found was of Hec-Tor—his nervousness plain through the flick of his ears as he tried to make conversation with Prince Kin—and the accompanying warmth that lingered alongside the memory threatened to suffocate him. It took him a moment to realize that warmth had come from 099-0783’s urge to try and comfort his charge in the middle of the gala. The sheer intensity of it was enough to tell Prime that 099-0783 had come within a hair’s breadth of doing so.

Then, there was a fleeting feeling of shame, and Prime saw Prince Kin, making an offhand comment about 099-0783’s face being displeasing to look at, on account of those scars that had marred his face. A lingering reminder of a previous failure to serve his purpose… and without his purpose, 099-0783’s life was meaningless.

Hec-Tor had moved too fast for 099-0783 to react and grab hold of him before his tiny fist connected with Prince Kin’s nose, drawing bright fuchsia blood and sending the boy tumbling to the floor. It was only after the damage had been done that 099-0783 managed to catch hold of the back of Hec-Tor’s dress and draw him back.

A sharp bit of fear as Prime’s voice— _ enough! _ —cut through the overlying music of the gala.

Prime almost withdrew—after all, he had what he needed—but just before he did, he stumbled across another memory. A fully fledged one, that had hung on and lingered. One that Prime would be able to see in its entirety, rather than in fits and flashes of what once was.

And he pressed on.

_ The door to the Imperial Wing opened, revealing the portraits of the late Horde Prime Ar-Tor and Consort Nevere. 099-0783 ignored them as he gently guided Prince Hec-Tor along through the corridors back towards the Creche. However, Prince Hec-Tor’s gait was slow, his shoulders shaking. _

_ It broke 099-0783’s heart to see him like this. _

_ “Anillis is really mad, isn’t he?” Prince Hec-Tor mumbled, voice so soft that 099-0783 might not have heard had he not been listening. But then, he always listened when his Prince was speaking. _

_ “No, my Prince,” 099-0783 said, shaking his head. He knew the blame for tonight’s incident rested solely on his own shoulders, and he would be punished severely for it unless he could find a way to placate Horde Prime. “His Majesty could never be mad at you…” _

_ Prince Hec-Tor did not seem convinced at all by 099-0783’s attempts to comfort him. He sniffed and that was when 099-0783 noticed that he was crying. “It’s not fair…” Prince Hec-Tor hissed. _

_ It rarely was… but 099-0783 didn’t say that aloud. Instead, he knelt down in front of his Prince. Hec-Tor let out a soft cough, as if he seemed to be struggling to keep air in his lungs. His ears had drooped entirely, the tips threatening to brush against his shaking shoulders. The kohl that had been put around his eyes—light gray, just around the corners—was running down his cheeks, smearing across the still-blue skin. _

_ “Your eyes are red, little one…” 099-0783 said as he reached out to gently wipe away Prince Hec-Tor’s tears with the heel of his hand. _

_ He smiled when Prince Hec-Tor snorted, as if he was trying to keep from laughing. “My eyes are  _ always _ red, Nan…” _

Prime’s touch on 099-0783’s mind receded again, and he took a deep breath as his vision swam. Deep diving like that could be disorienting at the best of times, especially when doing so to a Minder like 099-0783.

“So, he was defending  _ you _ ,” Prime managed to hiss out through his teeth, although he didn’t sound as intimidating as he meant to.

The serene wide-eyed expression that had been on 099-0783’s face as a result of the mind delve melted away and was replaced one of terror. “Y-Yes, your Majesty,” he said. “The other child spoke ill of me, and Prince Hec-Tor acted out of line. But he was uninjured and—”

Prime abruptly stood from his seat upon the throne and 099-0783 fell silent. Behind Prime, the two Attendants currently on duty dipped into low bows, as was expected of them. Although he hesitated for a moment, 099-0783 mirrored them, bowing at the waist and training his gaze upon the floor, and 066-5555 immediately followed his example.

010-1347, however, remained standing where he was. His eyes narrowed as he held Prime’s gaze, and there was a curl to his lips that betrayed the beginnings of snarl. “Prince Hec-Tor was defending 099-0783, and there is no shame in that,” 010-1347 stated, as though he was so sure of his own words.

Prime didn’t even bother trying to bite back his scoff. 

For years, he had contemplated sending 010-1347 off to reconditioning years ago, when the Minder first began showing signs of insubordination. In hindsight, he should have. 010-1347 was at least partially to blame for Hec-Tor’s inability to listen, and the stubbornness that hadn’t been nipped in the bud. How Hec-Tor believed that he had more say in his choices than he actually did. 010-1347 displayed all of the same issues. Prime had been lenient because of 010-1347’s skill as a doctor and his loyalty towards his role as Hec-Tor’s personal physician, and through that, the throne…

Now, he stared down his nasal ridge at the clone. “010-1347, I have put up with a lot from you for Hec-Tor’s sake—”

010-1347 let out a harsh, bitter laugh. “For  _ Hec-Tor’s _ sake?” he repeated, almost mockingly. “You don’t give a damn about what’s good for him. Time and time again, I have informed you that he is stable, that he could live a fulfilling life if only you’d let him. But you smother him, you  _ isolate _ him out of some overzealous attempt to keep a hold of him.” 

“Doc,” 066-5555 hissed in a low, frightened whisper. “ _ Stop _ —” 

He immediately fell silent when 099-0783 stepped in front of him as if to shield him from whatever ire might be directed towards them. Even though 099-0783’s eyes were wide with terror, he held his ground, and shushed the younger clone, herding him back a couple of feet to put distance between them and where 010-1237 stood. While 066-5555 had never committed an offense, 099-0783 had, and the jagged scars running across his cheek served as a reminder of what happened to Minders who spoke out of turn and offended their Emperor.

“And just what do you know?” Prime snarled in a low voice, ignoring the other Minders as he sauntered slowly across the room to where 010-1347 was standing. The Minder stood his ground, even as Prime loomed over him, holding his gaze with a harsh glare of his own. He did not flinch as the cables woven in through Prime’s hair emerged from their docks with a faint hiss.

“I know that you need Prince Hec-Tor far more than he needs you,” 010-1347 said in a low, menacing hiss, baring his canines at Prime.

Then, his eyes glitched. 

It was an abrupt, sudden shift from the citrine green that marked 010-1347 as being completely subservient to Prime’s will, to a bright red, matching Hec-Tor’s eyes. The change only last for a moment, and had Prime not been paying attention, had he not been looming over the clone, he likely would not have noticed it at all.

Prime’s hand closed around 010-1347’s throat before he had a chance to get out of Prime’s range. Though 010-1347 struggled as he was lifted from the floor by his neck, there was an almost gleeful grin on his face. He was delighted by what he had just said, and such a reaction only served to make Prime even angrier.

“Where do you get the gall to say that to me?” Prime questioned, in a low threatening hiss, tightening his hand around 010-1347’s throat until he wheezed for air.

One of the cables snaked over the back of 010-1347’s neck, threatening to plug into the port there and send him into catatonia so he could be reset completely. What memories he held, the pesky feelings that had been allowed to form… all of them could be erased. It would have been so easy to send him off to be reconditioned, and then sent to die on the front lines. He was too unruly to continue serving as a Minder, but a doctor still had use on the battlefield.

“Because you don’t  _ deserve _ a brother like him,” 010-1347 managed to say through a wheeze. Though he was weakening as he struggled to get air in his lungs, there was still fight left in him. “If I had the means—” There was a second flicker in his eyes, cracks green giving way to bright red. “—I would have taken Hec-Tor away from here long ag—”

A sickening crack echoed through the throne room as Prime’s grip tightened around his throat, cutting off 010-1347’s final words before he could even finish uttering them. Slowly, 010-1347’s body slipped through his fingers and fell limply to the floor below, landing there with a dull thud. The citrine green in his eyes faded away, leaving behind lifeless pools of bright red as he stared up blankly at the ceiling of the throne room.

Tilting his head to the side just so, Prime stared down at the body in contemplation. “Send the body to the labs for autopsy and dissection on Project L-O,” Prime said blandly, without even looking at the Attendants who had been left standing on the dais. “If 010-1347 wanted to help my darling baby brother so badly, he still can, in death.”

The Attendants followed his orders without complaint, nor did they spare the fallen clone a second glance or take a moment to mourn him.

The same could not be said for 010-1347’s fellow Minders.

099-0783 and 066-5555 stared at the body of their fellow Minder as it was dragged away with wide, disbelieving eyes. Neither one moved as shock seemed to set in. 066-5555 peeked out from behind 099-0783 shoulder like a scared toddler, while 099-0783 shoulders shook.

And then, their eyes glitched.

Cracks of green appearing on citrine green.

Brief, gone in a moment, but it was enough enough to catch Prime’s attention, and a low snarl rose in the back of his throat.

099-0783 spoke up first. “My Emperor… Prince Hec-Tor is without his primary minders at the moment,” he said carefully. “With… with your permission—”

“Oh, I’m afraid that neither of you are going anywhere,” Prime said in a low, saccharine purr as he approached them. The cables woven into his hair rose into the air again, poised to strike like snakes. “It’s a shame, of course… Hec-Tor is so fond of you three, but…”

Where one fell, ten more stood to take his place.


	5. Part V

The Creche was nearly silent, save for the soft whisper of the life support systems, but Hec-Tor didn’t even notice the sound as he made his way past the floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out onto a star system he hadn’t been told the name of. Light shone in through the windows, bathing the marbled floors of the Creche in warm, white light. In the distance, he caught a glimpse of the planet that orbited this star. During dinner the previous evening, Anillis had explained the planet was very important to the integrity of the Empire. Hec-Tor knew that his brother meant to bring peace to the system, but he did wonder what the planet had that was so valuable that it had caught Anillis’s eye.

Of course, when Hec-Tor had asked his brother if he could accompany him to the treaty signings, Anillis had given him a hard look and told him he was remaining on the  _ Velvet Glove _ . There would be no negotiating. 

Briefly, Hec-Tor had debated sneaking aboard Anillis’s private transport, only to realize he had no way of getting past the palm scanners to the elevators that would have taken him down to the docking bays. He had tried to get past them once, after slipping his Minder, only to find that most of the scanners were locked to him, even if they worked fine for his Minder, Caduceus.

So, that plan had been a bust.

Then, he remembered his little bot, Trinket. She was still a work-in-progress, of course, but if he finally managed to get a hold of the materials he needed to make her weapons system fully functional—to really show his brother what he was capable of—then Anillis would definitely come around.

… Hec-Tor just had to  _ find _ her, before his Minder came back to help him get ready for lunch with Anillis. He had been searching for her for half an hour now, after something had gone wrong while he was fiddling with her central processor. She had scurried off and disappeared before Hec-Tor could grab her and troubleshoot. But he doubted she had managed to get out of the Creche, so she would be here if he was going to find her anywhere.

Hopping up onto the back of the sectional that sat in the middle of the Creche, Hec-Tor peered around the room, searching for even the slightest hint of movement. He had read something in a book once about how Pyrians had evolved as a species to live in low-light cave systems, and as a result they could detect the slightest shifts in ambient light in near total darkness. His balance atop his perch was precarious, but he managed to hold it, digging his talons into the cushions to ground himself better.

Still nothing. Carefully, Hec-Tor dropped back down onto the floor. His ears eased forward as he listened, trying to pick up the most minute sounds of a tiny battle bot plodding along. None of his bots were particularly good at being quiet, although Hec-Tor didn’t see why they needed to be considering what they were going to be used for once he had perfected the design. Anillis might have thought he was just wasting time that could have been better spent studying old battles and the history of the Empire, but Hec-Tor didn’t see why he couldn’t do both.

Especially since he didn’t even  _ like _ studying old battles and the history of the Empire all that much.

A scuttling noise came from the far side of the Creche, and Hec-Tor’s ears immediately swiveled in the direction of the sound. When he turned to look, he caught sight of Trinket scurrying across the marbled floor and disappearing into her room through the door her had left ajar earlier. When Caduceus didn’t immediately shriek in terror at the sight of her—he usually did before telling Hec-Tor to be more careful with his toys—Hec-Tor assumed his Minder wasn’t inside straightening up.

So, he followed her, his feet almost silent against the floor. He poked his head into his room just in time to see Trinket slip beneath the frame of his bed. Kneeling down, Hec-Tor peered into the dusty gloom beneath his bed, trying to find his wayward battle bot. Trinket beeped, her bright red ocular processor gleaming in the dim light as she twirled around on her outer casing. Almost as if she was glitching… again. He had seen her do that a couple of times before, when one of her wires had shorted out.

“Trinket…” he whispered, reaching out for her. “Come here.”

When she paused in her twirling and turned to look at him, Trinket let out a soft, confused sounding  _ bwoop _ . Her ocular processor focused on him, but she shied away as if she didn’t recognize him and disappeared into the shadows.

Hec-Tor frowned. Usually when he held out his hand, she’d crawl into his palm and allow him to pick her up. Sighing irritably, Hec-Tor flopped down onto his stomach and started wiggling beneath the bed frame to follow her. It was at times like this he was happy he was still relatively small and skinny compared to what he ‘should have been’—Anillis’s words, not his.

“Trinket, we don’t have time for this,” he whispered, accidentally knocking against a box that had been hidden beneath the bed and kicking up some dust. “I need to fix you before—” He let out a loud sneeze from the dust and as he continued speaking, his voice grew that much more hoarse. “—before Caduceus comes back…”

He reached out again, managing to grab hold of Trinket so he could drag her out from under the bed, only for Trinket to give him a little shock. Hec-Tor let out a soft yelp of pain and jerked, cracking his head against the underside of the bed frame. For just a moment, as he rubbed the back of his head, he regretted installing the shocking upgrade onto her. While he was distracted, Trinket let out a sharp bwip and scuttled past him, emerging out from under the bed. Hec-Tor quickly followed after her.

Once he managed to get out from under the bed frame, Hec-Tor dove after Trinket and managed to grab her. Once he had gotten a firm hold on her, Hec-Tor powered her down so that she wouldn’t squirm while he was poking around in her internal wiring. When she went limp, he set the little battle bot into his lap so he could look her over.

Finicky little thing…

Hec-Tor frowned, before slotting his talons into the space between two plates of the Trinket’s outer casing and prying it open. It took a little bit of effort, as he lacked some amount of upper body strength, but he managed, and tossed the loose plate to the side. It crashed into a pile of spare parts, somewhere behind him, and though his ears flicked back in the direction of the sound, he ignored it. Peering into the bot’s casing, he carefully checked her internal circuitry. He quickly spotted one wire that seemed to have shorted out.

Humming softly to himself, Hec-Tor peered behind him at the spare parts that had been haphazardly piled together on the far side of his room. Did he have more of that kind of wire hidden somewhere? He wasn’t actually sure. It was very difficult to keep track of all the spare parts he had collected from disassembling things around the ship.

This wouldn’t happen if Anillis would give him a lab.

Hec-Tor had hoped that now that he was a little older, Anillis would finally start letting him mess around in the labs with some of the scientists. Maybe even give him his own so he could experiment at his leisure. He had even tried putting in requisition forms. Anillis always had some on his desk, so Hec-Tor knew his brother read them and approved them all the time. He had wanted components that would allow him to finish the weapons systems for Trinket and her fellow battle bots, but…

… but Anillis had been pretty dismissive of the idea.

Hec-Tor assumed it was because Anillis didn’t take his research projects seriously. Even though he had managed to get Trinket to function, she was still very glitchy at times… so Hec-Tor had been focusing on making them work and fix the glitches as best as he could with the resources he had. Once he did fix them, he would try to make a full sized version that could actually go into battle. Trinket was palm-sized, which was fine for when he was trying to do tests, but if he wanted them to actually do what he designed them for, he would need to tweak them and make them much larger—probably at least several feet tall. He had already drawn up the schematics and everything, down to the smallest detail, but try as he might to show Anillis, his brother hadn’t really seemed interested.

Frowning at the piles of parts he had meticulously organized against the wall of his room, Hec-Tor let out a soft, frustrated hiss. He would just have to make Trinket and the rest of his battle bots absolutely perfect, so that Anillis couldn’t deny he had done a good job. Perhaps he’d even be impressed enough that he’d send them out into battle immediately and give Hec-Tor the lab he had been asking for for years now.

With newfound determination, Hec-Tor scooted across the floor and began shifting through one of the piles. When he finally found the specific type of wire he was looking for, he carefully pulled it free and rose back to his feet. He cradled Trinket carefully in his palm, and with her in one hand and the spare wire in the other, Hec-Tor pushed himself back to his feet. 

His makeshift workbench was on the far side of his room, the desk where he was meant to carry out his studies and schoolwork. However, over the years it had become the place he worked on his experiments—robotics, mostly. Several books were stacked along the edge, and his datapad sat precariously on top. It was filled with scientific papers he had requested from the Archives, all of them for research purposes. The desk top was permanently stained with grease and oil from some of his older projects, including several of Trinket’s prototype bodies that had ended up being too glitchy for her to make much use of.

Carefully, Hec-Tor set Trinket’s prone body on the desk and then fished his tools from the nearby rack that hung on the wall beside his desk. He leaned over his battle bot, peering into her casing to find the fried wire again. Then , he took a deep breath, and reached inside carefully with his tools. Try as he might, he couldn’t fully still the shaking of his hands—a side effect of his muscular weakness—but he tried to be as delicate and precise as possible as he removed the wire and replaced it.

Trinket’s ocular processor flared back to life, and she squirmed, rolling herself back onto her legs. Looking around the room, her ocular processor landed on him again, and she let out an excited sounding  _ bwoop _ at the sight of him, which brought a smile to Hec-Tor’s lips.

“Do you recognize me now?” he asked, holding out his palm from her.

This time, Trinket trotted onto his palm with no issue, and let out a sound that Hec-Tor could have easily mistaken for a purr as she settled down on his palm.

Hec-Tor glanced back at his desk, which was now covered in grease. His hands were too, actually. However, he merely wiped his hands on his dress, ignoring how the grease was going to strain the fabric, and hurried back over to the pile where he had tossed the panel of Trinket’s outer casing without care earlier.

He had only just finished slotting Trinket’s panel back into place when his primary Minder, Caduceus entered the room.

“My Prince, it is almost time to—”Caduceus cut off at the sight of Hec-Tor, sitting on the floor, covered from head to toe in grease, holding one of his little pet projects in his palm.

Caduceus let out a deep sigh and clicked his tongue in a way that was clearly meant to be disapproving. “Is it really so difficult to keep yourself clean, My Prince?” he asked, although there wasn’t as much bite to his words, as usual. His expression was softer than his tone would have suggested.

Hec-Tor scoffed, ears twitching in amusement as he looked back down at Trinket, carefully finishing screwing her outer casing into place. “This wouldn’t happen if Anillis would give me a workspace, Caduceus.”

“001-11992,” Caduceus corrected automatically. “And his Majesty has made it clear why you are not have a workspace, my Prince.” Then, he tilted his head to the side, tapping his chin as he circled Hec-Tor once and observed him. “We don’t have time to give you a bath… wait here while I find you a new dress. Then, I’ll spot clean you.”

And then he disappeared into the attached bathroom without another word, leaving Hec-Tor alone in his room. Hec-Tor silently watched him go, and his expression fell as he turned his attention back to Trinket. His ears drooped and twitched against his shoulders.

Caduceus was not as…  _ open _ as Nan had always been. While he wasn’t  _ mean _ , there was never the same amount of warmth in his voice as Nan had always had. When Caduceus had first been assigned to Hec-Tor, he had assumed that within a couple of months, Caduceus would eventually open up a little bit… perhaps become a little more like Nan had always been.

It had been a foolish assumption, he supposed. None of his Minders were exactly alike, and each one had their own little quirks. He remembered those of his… his past Minders fondly, even though it had been years since they had left.

Doc, for instance, had always had problems watching his language, and Nan would scold him for not holding his tongue around Hec-Tor. Doc had never seemed very concerned about it at all, even finding amusement in Nan’s frustration. Hec-Tor also remembered how Nan was always humming to himself whenever he worked, whether it had been helping Hec-Tor get ready for the day, or mending torn clothes, or cleaning up around the Creche. Kurok had often repeated orders to himself while he did them, as if he had been worried about forgetting them mid-task, even when it was something as simple as ‘get me another needle, would you?’ when Nan had been mending clothes.

Doc has always used a very soft and gentle tone when he had to coax Hec-Tor into giving over his arm for his weekly blood drawings, as Hec-Tor had always  _ hated _ needles. When Hec-Tor was upset and in need for comforting, Nan had always been there with a forehead touch and a reassuring smile. Hec-Tor had spent many afternoons chasing Kurok around the halls while they both laughed.

And then, just like that, they left without even saying goodbye.

Hec-Tor sucked down a shaky breath, trying to calm himself down before he began crying over this yet again. He missed his old Minders, and their absence had left a hole in his chest that Caduceus just hadn’t been able to fill.

When Caduceus emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, carrying a new dress and what appeared to be a damp washcloth, he herded Hec-Tor in the direction of the vanity. Hec-Tor wasn’t allowed to sit down right away, though. First, he had to endure Caduceus wiping his face, removing any grime and grease that had lingered after he had finished fixing Trinket. Even though he wanted to remind Caduceus he wasn’t a newborn pup and could clean himself off, Hec-Tor bit his tongue and gritted his teeth in frustration. Once done with his face, Caduceus moved onto Hec-Tor’s hands, wiping them clean and taking care to polish his talons free of grease.

Once Hec-Tor’s face and hands were clean, Caduceus helped him strip out of his dirtied dress before Hec-Tor was redressed in a new, clean one. It was very similar to the dress he had been put in that morning. White and black, with silver ornamentation around his waist and neckline and the Horde’s Wings embroidered across his chest. He was too young to wear the same talon guards that Anillis did—or so his brother said—but that mattered little to him. He wasn’t particularly fond of the outfit he was forced to wear. It was too tight and the fabric was scratchy against his skin… and he  _ really _ didn’t like the pants.

He knew better than to complain about it to Caduceus’s face, though. He’d only get a stern look if he did that—if not from Caduceus himself, than from Anillis later.

Caduceus looked over the grease-strained dress, and then glanced at Hec-Tor again. His brow ridge creased, although it was not out of anger—it seemed to be more out of concern than anything else. “I will clean this…” he trailed off and glanced down at the garment again, ears shifting back as his frown deepened. “… to the best of my ability.”

Hec-Tor peered at him, surprised by the lack of sternness in his voice. “You’re… not going to tell Anillis?”

The question seemed to shock Caduceus. When he met Hec-Tor’s gaze again, his eyes had widened to be the size of saucers. He opened his mouth, only for a moment before it shut again with an audible click. Then, he sighed. “I don’t… I don’t have a choice, my Prince,” he said quietly, his ears giving a nervous twitch at the tips.

“Don’t you?” Hec-Tor asked, frowning at Caduceus and tilting his head to the side.

Caduceus hesitated, ears still twitching and his brow furrowing—except this time, Hec-Tor recognized the tells of fear.

Hec-Tor’s ears flicked curiously. “Why are you afraid?”

This time, Caduceus let out a deep, almost resigned sigh. “It is nothing you need to concern yourself over, my Prince,” he said simply, before nudging Hec-Tor in the direction of the vanity’s seat. “Now, we need to finish preparing you for lunch.”

Only then did Hec-Tor sit down in front of the vanity mirror so that Caduceus could start fixing his hair and makeup. Caduceus was silent as he worked, trying to smooth back Hec-Tor’s hair and get it to stay in place. His hair had always been a problem, but even though he preferred to keep his hair looser, he decided not to speak up. After his hair was—mostly—neatened up, came the fine layer of kohl around his eyes that framed them and ‘made them pop’ as Nan used to say. It was a common enough style for the Minders and Anillis, although Hec-Tor thought that maybe it’d be more fun if there was heavier lining around his eyes. He had never actually tried it, though, and Caduceus wouldn’t let him, no matter how many times he asked.

Finally, once everything else was in order, Caduceus carefully tucked Hec-Tor’s ear ornamentation back over his ears—a matching set of ear clasps that followed his ears from base to tapered point. Hec-Tor didn’t particularly mind wearing his ear ornamentation, and he had always thought his were rather pretty. Although he had never actually met other members of his species, he had seen pictures. The Pyrians in them always wore some kind of ear ornamentation, ranging from simplistic and unadorned to extravagant, crown-like decorations that gave the wearer the illusion of being the center of a star.

His were not that ostentatious—although he had seen Anillis wear something similar in the past—but Hec-Tor’s still denoted his place in society as well as his age. The Kur bloodline’s crest was embellished in sweeping lines, curling along the silverite metal that denote him as the younger son of the previous Prime and the younger brother of the current one. When he was older, he had been told that Anillis would eventually commission another set that denoted his relationship status as well.

As Caduceus fitted the second clasp over his ear, Hec-Tor’s eyes darted to look at the reflection of Caduceus’s larger ears. Unlike Hec-Tor’s ears, and unlike every picture he had seen of other Pyrians, Caduceus’s ears were always bare, leaving the mottled blue tip of his left ear completely exposed. None of Hec-Tor’s previous Minders had ever worn ear ornamentation either, nor did the Attendants from what he had seen. He really hadn’t given it much thought when he was younger, but…

“Caduceus?” Hec-Tor spoke up.

He noticed Caduceus take a deep breath and glance up at the ceiling in what might have been exasperation, although Hec-Tor couldn’t tell for certain. “001—” Caduceus began in a patient tone, before Hec-Tor cut him off again in his haste.

“How come  _ you _ don’t wear ear clasps?” Hec-Tor asked, turning in his seat to meet Caduceus’s gaze.

The question caused Caduceus to pause, and he stared at Hec-Tor in surprise. The startled expression from earlier had returned to his features, eyes going wide and lips slightly parted. And then, he reached up, almost subconsciously, and rubbed the mottled tip of his ear where his masking had never come in fully. “I… I don’t have any, my Prince,” he finally managed.

“Do you want some?” Hec-Tor pressed. “I could ask Anillis—”

“No!” Caduceus said sharply, startling Hec-Tor. Then, he seemed to realize he had shouted and took a second deep breath to calm his nerves again. “No… no, my Prince. It’s fine. I don’t… I don’t want any.”

Anillis had often told Hec-Tor that he was an awful liar, and while he did often struggle to pick up on lies that were being told to him, he could tell that Caduceus wasn’t much better at lying than he was. He nearly argued with his Minder, not wanting that to be the end of it, but Caduceus’s tone caused him to pause… and so he held his tongue, and stood still as Caduceus circled him, correcting any lingering imperfections in his appearance.

“Come, my Prince,” Caduceus said before he motioned to the door of Hec-Tor’s bedroom with a flick of his ears. “His Majesty will be waiting for you by now.”

Hec-Tor nodded, and reached out to pick up Trinket again from where she had been left amongst the scrap that lined the wall of his room. He only paused when he noticed the look on Caduceus’s face—mostly stern, but with an underlying flash of something in his eyes that Hec-Tor couldn’t identify. The stiffness to his posture returned.

“His Majesty has requested that you leave behind your…” Caduceus paused, as though he was struggling to think of the best word to describe Trinket. After a moment, he finally gave up, and his mouth set in a hard line. “It would be best if you leave it behind, my Prince…”

Hec-Tor hesitated for a moment, his ears flattening in disappointment… but then he sighed and stepped away from the piles of scrap. “Fine,” he muttered, trying not to let his disappointment bleed into his tone.

He didn’t think he had done a very good job of it, but if Caduceus noticed, he said nothing.

—

The private dining room aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ was one of the more ornate rooms that Hec-Tor had seen—although he didn’t actually have much to go on aside from pictures. The floors were polished, just like every other floor, and Hec-Tor wondered how the Attendants managed to keep everything so perfect and clean. Two place settings had already been laid out on the long table that had enough seats for over a dozen people.

It was always just him and Anillis, though. None of the Attendants ever sat with them, even when they weren’t fetching a new course of meals, or taking away finished plates.

When Hec-Tor followed Caduceus into the room, his gaze immediately fell upon his brother. Anillis was sitting at the head of the table, opposite of the doors, in one of the largest chairs Hec-Tor had seen around the Imperial Wing. It wasn’t as awe-inspiring as the throne, but it held a similar effect, with sweeping curves carved into wood like wings stretching out from between Anillis’s shoulder blades. All of the rest of the chairs around the table looked rather diminutive in comparison. Hec-Tor usually sat to the right of Anillis, not quite at the head of the table, but close enough that they wouldn’t have had to shout if there were more people joining them.

Anillis did not greet them, too engrossed in his work. There was a pinch in his brow ridge and his mouth was set in a hard line. Hec-Tor wondered what his brother could be working on that was holding his attention so thoroughly. His ears hadn’t even swiveled in the direction of the doors when Hec-Tor had entered with Caduceus.

He liked meeting his brother in the throne room better. There was no hiding the sweeping map of the Empire that covered the entire back wall of the room. Even without the map, though, he knew enough about his brother’s current campaigns to know that there had been multiple uprisings of rebel insurgents—perhaps the planet they were currently in orbit with was where those rebels were hiding? Hec-Tor couldn’t be sure, but he did recall his brother mentioning in the past that rebel insurgents posed a danger to what he had called the ‘integrity of the Empire’ and that he was merely trying to quell them before they could inflict very real harm onto those whose protection he was responsible for.

Hec-Tor bumped right into Caduceus’s back when his Minder suddenly stopped walking. He hadn’t realized that they were already at his seat. Caduceus reached behind himself, steadying Hec-Tor before he could lose his balance and fall. He glanced over his shoulder briefly, ears twitching as he gave Hec-Tor a quick once-over, before he moved away to pull out the chair for Hec-Tor to sit.

“I’ll return in a moment with your medicine, my Prince,” Caduceus whispered, leaning down as he pushed Hec-Tor’s chair back in, as though he was worried about disturbing Anillis. Then he rose back to his full height and left without another word, disappearing through the doors at the back of the room that Hec-Tor knew led to the kitchens.

He was left to wait for his brother to notice he had finally arrived for lunch. However, Hec-Tor found it rather difficult to sit still, fiddling with the long, skin-tight sleeves of his dress. Though he wanted to speak up, thinking that perhaps Anillis hadn’t noticed him come in, Hec-Tor held his tongue and tried to have some amount of patience. His brother was always chastising him for his lack of it…

When the door to the kitchen swung open again, Hec-Tor looked up, expecting to see Caduceus returning with his medicine and a glass of water. Instead, an Attendant whose serial number Hec-Tor didn’t know strode past and disappeared from the dining room. He had worn an identical face to Caduceus, so at a glance, they appeared to be the same. If Hec-Tor hadn’t been able to easily recognize Caduceus, he might have mistaken them for each other.

Hec-Tor knew what the Attendants and his Minder were, of course. It was hard to not realize someone was a clone when you had dozens of identical people taking care of you for your entire life, who didn’t have names and were instead referred to by serial numbers. Despite what some people thought, he was not  _ stupid _ . For years he had suspected that all the servants who lived aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ were clones of Anillis, but he had never really gotten to the nerve to ask his brother about it.

Even if he had asked, though, Hec-Tor wasn’t sure if his brother would have given him a straight answer. He tried not to think about it too hard, if he could help it.

His breath left him for a moment, and Hec-Tor let out a cough into his sleeve before he could try to bite it back. Although he hadn’t been having many health problems recently—and hadn’t had a fainting spell in weeks—coughing was still pretty standard for him. He had what Caduceus had described as a ‘weakened respiratory system’ which made him sensitive to things like dust. Climbing around under his bed to try and catch Trinket earlier likely hadn’t helped.

His cough, however, did grab Anillis’s attention. His ears flicked, and he blinked once, twice, before looking in Hec-Tor’s direction with all four of his eyes. Shortly after his old Minders had left, Anillis had gotten two new eyes put in on the right side of his face—one above his original eye and one below. They were fully functional too. Hec-Tor always did his best to maintain eye contact, but he still couldn’t figure out where exactly he was supposed to be looking. He had taken to staring at the two eyes he knew to be natural and ignored the other two.

He didn’t know why Anillis had chosen to do that, but he had never really had the nerve to press further after the initial shock of seeing his brother with two extra eyes. He had gotten extremely cagey when Hec-Tor had asked where he had gotten the eyes in the first place since they looked very similar—yet different—from his natural eyes. After that, Hec-Tor had decided not to press, figuring it probably wasn’t that big of a deal.

“Um… hi?” Hec-Tor said, tilting his head to the side and offering a smile.

The corner of Anillis’s mouth quirked upwards as he looked back at his paperwork. “I trust you haven’t been giving your Minder trouble this morning?” he asked. There was a good natured tone to his voice, almost teasing. “Ate all of your breakfast? Didn’t get yourself covered in grease again?”

Then, he looked over again and reached out to thread his talons through Hec-Tor’s crest. “Your hair seems to be in order…”

‘ _ For once _ ’ went unsaid, and the tips of Hec-Tor’s ears burned, but he tried to force a smile anyway. “Yes, I ate everything, just like—” He nearly said Caduceus’s name instead of his serial number, but managed to stop himself before he could. “—001-11992 wanted me too.”

“And after breakfast?” Anillis said, quirking his brow.

“Um…” Hec-Tor paused, realizing that he hadn’t even tried to concoct some kind of story for what he had been doing all morning. Caduceus had mostly left him alone after breakfast in order to do chores around the Creche, so Hec-Tor had been allowed to play before lunch. He didn’t have studies until the afternoon, although Anillis surely wouldn’t have frowned upon him going back over his lessons from the previous day—it was better than the alternative, which was admitting his battle bot was still glitchy, even if she was almost complete.

“I… I went back over my studies and—”

Anillis sighed and clicked his tongue in disapproval. “Hec-Tor, you really are such a terrible liar…”

Hec-Tor’s frowned and his ears flicked in embarrassment. “Fine…” he muttered. “I-I was working on Trinket—she’s almost done, if you’d just give me—”

He cut off as Caduceus returned with his medications, setting them and a glass of water down in front of him. Instead of continuing his argument, deciding it was pointless now, he reached out to pick up his medicine and take it like he was supposed to, and did so without complaint.

“Is that true, 011-11992?” Anillis asked, and though his two natural eyes remained centered on Hec-Tor, the other two moved independently and looked at Caduceus instead.

If Caduceus was as unnerved by that as Hec-Tor was, he did a marvelous job of hiding it. “Yes, your Majesty,” he said simply. “I had to spot clean him before bringing him down here.”

Anillis dismissed Caduceus with a flick of his ears, and Caduceus immediately bowed low before turning away. He disappeared back into the kitchens to help bring out lunch, leaving Anillis and Hec-Tor alone.

“Hec-Tor, we’ve been over this…” Anillis began as he turned his gaze back to his paperwork. Hec-Tor still couldn’t quite make out what he was working, though.

“If you’d just put one of my requisition forms through!” Hec-Tor pressed, leaning forward in his seat. A frustrated hiss left him. “Anillis, I am so close to a breakthrough, I just need—”

“ _ Hec-Tor _ ,” Anillis repeated, gaze narrowing as he looked back at Hec-Tor.

Although Hec-Tor had every intention to continue arguing, beneath his brother’s stern gaze, he found that his fight had left him. Wordlessly, he closed his mouth and his gaze dropped to his lap.

Anillis sighed. “Hec-Tor, it is not my intention to be cruel,” he said and his voice was much softer this time. “But you must understand that your tinkering is merely a  _ hobby _ , and a dangerous one at that!”

Hec-Tor would have slumped in his seat if he thought he could get away with it. “Yes, Anillis…”

When Caduceus returned from the kitchens moments later, he was carrying a single plate with him, which he carefully set down in front of Hec-Tor. Although he briefly made mention of how the plate was hot and Hec-Tor needed to be careful while eating, Hec-Tor barely heard him. He had become lost in his own thoughts, and he might not have started eating at all until he noticed his brother was watching him expectantly—and almost worriedly. He didn’t look away until Hec-Tor took a bite of his meal.

Since Caduceus had immediately retreated to the far side of the room to stand beside another Attendant, Hec-Tor was left alone with his brother again. As awkward and closed off as he could be, Caduceus still talked to Hec-Tor during breakfast, which Hec-Tor almost always took in the Creche. Anillis was often too busy in the morning to come and see him. Staring at his plate blankly, Hec-Tor countined pushing his food around but didn’t actually take another bite… and Anillis was too engrossed in his paperwork to really notice.

“Um…” Hec-Tor spoke up tentatively, wanting some kind of conversation going—or even just a little bit of attention from his brother.

Though Anillis’s ears twitched and swiveled in his direction, indicating he had heard Hec-Tor, he didn’t respond.

“… Anillis?” Hec-Tor pressed.

His brother sighed and rubbed his eyes tiredly with the heel of his hand. “Yes?” he asked, looking at Hec-Tor. “What is it, little one?”

Hec-Tor hadn’t actually thought that far ahead. “Could… could we maybe discuss the possibility of me starting my combat training?” he tried. Though his voice was quiet it echoed across the dining room. He had been trying to work up the nerve to ask about this for weeks… he was already years behind where he should have been, according to what he had found in some of his archival readings.

Any annoyance that had been on Anillis’s features melted away, and his ears twitched as though the question had amused him. “Why would you need to learn any of that, little one?”

Hec-Tor frowned, feeling the tips of his ears heat. “I… I just thought—” he said, unable to keep the stutter from his voice. “It’s… it’s a good skill to have is all. What happens if 001-11992 isn’t around to protect me? Shouldn’t I be able to protect myself?”

“Why wouldn’t 001-11992 be around?” Anillis said dismissively. “If he isn’t around, I am. There is no reason for you to bother with such things, Hec-Tor.”

Hec-Tor couldn’t stop the irritated hiss that rose in the back of his throat. Anillis heard it, too, and his gaze snapped back to Hec-Tor—or at least, the upper and lower eyes did. His two natural eyes were closed in what seemed to be exasperation.

“ _ Temper _ , Hec-Tor,” he said sternly. “It is unbecoming of you to—”

“I don’t understand why I can’t learn how to fight!” Hec-Tor insisted, glaring at his brother. “I’ve already punched someone hard enough to draw blood—”

It was Anillis’s turn to hiss. “Do not speak of that,” he said, in a much sharper tone than he had spoken with since Hec-Tor had arrived for lunch. The tone of his voice was enough to startle Hec-Tor, and he stared back at Anillis with wide eyes. Anillis sighed, pinching his nasal ridge as he took a deep breath in through his nose and out through his mouth.

“I will consider it if you health continues to improve,” Anillis conceded. “But as of right now, you are still too fragile for such things. Do you understand?”

“… does that include blasters?” Hec-Tor asked, tilting his head to the side. He had seen some in the training rooms the last time he had accompanied Caduceus down there… and they would have had the components he needed in order to make Trinket’s weapons system work…

“Hec-Tor, my patience is beginning to wear thin,” Anillis said sternly, before motioning to Hec-Tor’s lunch. “Now, finish eating and then you can go and do your studies.”

“… yes, Anillis,” he finally managed to say, dropping his gaze to his mostly untouched plate. He was glad his brother wasn’t a mind reader or else he’d  _ definitely _ be getting in trouble for the idea that he had just come up with.

—

It was very late when Hec-Tor finally made his move. He waited until after Caduceus had already checked on him once after he was supposed to be asleep before Hec-Tor slipped out of bed, and crept from his bedroom. Caduceus was nowhere in sight, but it was likely he was merely doing rounds around the Creche. He had once told Hec-Tor that he performed some of his more tedious chores—like filing requisition forms—when Hec-Tor was sleeping because they required more of his attention than cleaning did.

As soon as he was out the door, Hec-Tor disappeared down the hall, heading away from the Creche and away from his brother’s room, which was connected to the Creche. The training deck within the Imperial Wing was most often frequented by the Attendants who served Anillis and Hec-Tor directly, and while that meant there must have been others aboard the ship, Hec-Tor had never seen any other training decks before. He knew, roughly, where the Imperial Wing’s training deck was, even if he had only been once or twice while following Caduceus around in the mornings. Most of the halls of the Imperial Wing were unadorned and rather sterile, making it very easy to get lost, so Hec-Tor had been trying to think of it in terms of how many corridors he had to pass before he turned. 

Thankfully, he had also had enough sense to memorize patrol patterns of the Attendants who would have still been awake at this hour. Though there would have been fewer than normal, if one spotted him, they’d herd him back to the Creche and he would have had to wait weeks in order to have another opportunity to sneak out again since Caduceus would have been on high alert. So, Hec-Tor kept to the shadows and peered carefully around corners. He counted when he encountered a patrol route and made sure to time it when he bolted across corridors so that he wouldn’t get caught.

Eventually, he managed to retrace his steps to the training deck, and when he tried the door, he was surprised to find it unlocked. He didn’t know if it was ever locked since there would have been Attendants awake at all hours who might have had the opportunity to make use of it, but he didn’t pause to think on it for longer than a moment. His ears perked as he heard the faint footsteps of an approaching patrol, and he quickly ducked inside, closing the door behind him as quietly as possible. With his ear pressed against the door, he listened as a lone Attendant passed the door and continued on past down the corridor.

Only once he was sure he hadn’t been caught did Hec-Tor let out a relieved breath.

Then, he glanced around the training deck. The last time he had been here, there had been at least a dozen Attendants—the night patrols, Caduceus had said. They frequently received orders to keep their skills in hand-to-hand combat sharp, and though Hec-Tor had never actually seen an Attendant carry a weapon, they knew how to use those as well. That was why he knew that there were blasters around here somewhere. He had seen an Attendant practicing his marksmanship the last time he had followed Caduceus around, and the targets that lined the far wall, singed from previous practice sessions, only confirmed it. Many had hit directly in the center.

Right now, though, there was nobody else in here besides him. That was to his advantage. All he needed to do was find where they kept the blasters, take one, and then get back to the Creche before Caduceus noticed he was gone. By Hec-Tor’s own estimation, he had maybe another hour or two before Caduceus would check on him to make sure he was still sleeping.

When he spotted a door on the far side of the room, Hec-Tor’s ears perked and eased forward in curiosity before he hurried over to it. Leaning the entirety of his body weight against the door, he eased it open and poked his head inside. At a glance, there was nothing of note aside from a tall case that held melee weapons. Hec-Tor slipped into the room and made his way over to the case, peering in through the glass. Blades mostly, by the looks of it. He definitely couldn’t take one of those, since he’d never be able to find a hiding place for it in his room that Caduceus wouldn’t look in.

Then, at the far end of the room, he spotted a case that looked it held a couple of blasters. Some of them were larger, but most were small enough he could easily hide them amongst the scrap he had collected in his room. Caduceus never touched the stuff, and Anillis never came into his room, so it would be very easy to keep the blaster hidden. He quickly glanced back out in the training deck, and when he found it still deserted, he crossed the storage room and carefully opened the case. He tried to make as little sound as possible, even though he was alone. The case was tall enough that he had to stand on his toes to reach one of the smaller blasters.

Tilting his head to the side, Hec-Tore carefully turned the blaster over in his hands. He knew enough about firearms, even without training, to know that he shouldn’t point the barrel at himself or anybody else unless he intended to shoot it—he had read it once during one of his miscellaneous dives through the archives. Besides, he was far more interested in the inner mechanics of the thing than he was in shooting it. How it worked, what its power source looked like and if he could boost the output if he had the proper materials.

Hec-Tor could barely contain his energy, although he managed to stop himself from bouncing on his toes. He hid the blaster in the folds of his dress and then eased the case closed again. There were several other empty spaces within the case, so he hoped that would be enough to hide the fact that one was missing. Then, he turned away and hurried from the storage room. He strode towards the door that led back out to the main corridors, only to pause when he noticed the targets that still sat the far side of the training deck again… if it hadn’t been the middle of the night, he might have been tempted to try and shoot—

“Hec-Tor!”

Caduceus stood in the doorway to the training deck, staring at Hec-Tor with wide eyes—absolutely  _ petrified _ . Without waiting for Hec-Tor to react, he hurried across the room and crouched down, quickly looking Hec-Tor over as though he had been expecting Hec-Tor to be injured. 

“Don’t scare me like that!” he said sharply, although there was no real bite to his tone. His hair was a mess, rather than neatly smoothed back, as though he had been nervously fiddling with it while searching for Hec-Tor. “I came into your room to check on you and you were gone! Are you hurt? What were you thinking?”

Hec-Tor found that his voice had left him. He never really knew what to do when Caduceus was fussing over him… it was such a departure from him trying to maintain his distance. “Um…” he mumbled, trying to think of something to say. “I… I wasn’t tired?”

If Caduceus realized Hec-Tor was lying, he didn’t let on, and merely sighed in what seemed to be poorly hidden relief. “You could have just said so, my Prince… I would have accompanied you…”

But if that had happened, Hec-Tor wouldn’t have been able to get anywhere near the blaster case… there was a  _ reason _ he had sneaked out of his room in the middle of the night without supervision, why he had timed dashing across corridors to evade patrols.

Caduceus let out a second, deeper breath and reached up to smooth his hair back again with a shaky hand. “Come, my Prince,” he said. “Let’s get you back to the Creche… unless you still want to walk around.”

Hec-Tor shook her head quickly, but said nothing, worried he might have accidentally said too much. He silently took Caduceus’s hand when it was offered and allowed his Minder to lead him out of the training room. This time, Hec-Tor didn’t have to sneak around since he was being accompanied by Caduceus. Yet, the halls around them were silent, and they didn’t run into any patrols as they walked. Caduceus also said nothing—in fact, he seemed intent on keeping his gaze straight ahead, to get Hec-Tor back to the Creche as soon as possible. Hec-Tor could feel the shaking in his hands, and that was enough to tell Hec-Tor he had really scared Caduceus by complete accident…

“Um…”

“Yes, my Prince?”

“Do you mind it when I call you Caduceus?” Hec-Tor asked curiously, as a way of breaking the silence between them.

Caduceus’s ears flicked in a way that Hec-Tor took to be surprise. “… I’m supposed to,” he admitted, although there was a flash of something in his eyes that told Hec-Tor he didn’t actually mind it as much as Anillis would have wanted him to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prime: if i let hec-tor experiment in a controlled environment with fire suppressors and fume hoods and proper tools at his disposal he'll surely be injured, i can't ever allow him to do that uwu  
> hec-tor, stealing a blaster and reverse-engineering the explosive components in his bedroom without any sort of supervision: tragic


	6. Part VI

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shorter chapter this time, but the good news is that the last two chapters are already mostly drafted so it should be smooth sailing from here and i'll be finished with this fic before season five drops in a month

Hec-Tor had never been particularly fond of his medical examinations. For as long as he could remember, he had been forced to sit in place while one of his Minders poked and prodded at him in order to gauge his health. He understood why it was necessary, since he had so many health problems—even if many of them were mitigated by a disgusting cocktail of medication he had to take multiple times every day—but he still did not like having to sit still for so long while Caduceus checked his breathing.

“—and breathe in, my Prince,” Caduceus instructed as he pressed a stethoscope to Hec-Tor’s left side.

Hec-Tor sighed heavily instead.

Caduceus actually tried to bite back a snort. “I said breathe  _ in _ , Hec-Tor,” he said, not seeming to notice he had dropped Hec-Tor’s title and instead used his name. That was what passed for a pet name with Caduceus these days, though.

Though he might have been bored out of his mind, Hec-Tor did not complain and did as he was told. He took in as deep of a breath as he was able, and only let it back out when Caduceus told him too. All the while, Caduceus listened intently, and he only moved his stethoscope when he was satisfied with the accuracy of his findings. Then, he moved onto the next area he had to check—first Hec-Tor’s right side, then circling around so that he could listen to how Hec-Tor’s breathing sounded from his back.

“Well, your lungs sound better,” Caduceus said as he carefully threaded the stethoscope over the back of his neck. Then, he turned away from Hec-Tor, and plucked his datapad up from the table. “Not one-hundred-percent, mind you—”

Hec-Tor barely heard a word of what his Minder was saying, though. His eyes—and by extension, his attention—had focused on the port that was slotted just below the base of Caduceus’s skull. The port existing in-and-of itself was not unusual for Hec-Tor. He had at least one himself because it made it easier to administer medication directly into the bloodstream. However, his was usually plugged up with a rubber stopper, where Caduceus always had his open and bare. It was not difficult to notice how Caduceus wasn’t alone in the placement of that port either. All the Attendants had them as well, but Hec-Tor had never really understood what they were fore, given the placement of them.

Putting a port directly adjacent to the brain stem seemed ill-suited for medication administration… 

“—ec-Tor?”

Caduceus half-turned to look over his shoulder, breaking Hec-Tor’s line-of-sight with the mysterious port on the back of his Minder’s neck. Tilting his head to the side, Caduceus regarded Hec-Tor with a worried crease in his brow. “Are you alright, my Prince?”

“I—Fine,” Hec-Tor mumbled, averting his gaze back to his lap. “I… I zoned out… for a moment. But I’m fine.”

If Caduceus caught Hec-Tor’s poor lie, he didn’t comment on it and turned his attention back to his datapad. His fingers trailed across the screen, following a data line that had been created by previous examinations, which would have stretched back throughout most of Hec-Tor’s life.

Hec-Tor couldn’t actually remember how long he had been having his morning examinations—and they were always performed in the morning, after he had woken up, eaten his breakfast, and taken his first round of medications. Before he had been given Caduceus as a Minder, he had been juggled back and forth between Nan and Doc all morning. Nan had handled domestic tasks, while Doc handled medical ones. So, Nan would prepare his breakfast and retrieve his medications, where Doc handled his health examinations and weekly blood tests. After they had… left, Caduceus took on both roles, and he seemed to have the combined knowledge of the two of them, as well as Kurok’s combative abilities.

“… can I see?” Hec-Tor asked, indicating to the datapad with a flick of his ears.

Caduceus glanced up from the datapad, tilting his head to the side. “Well, I do have to fetch some tubes so that I can take your blood…” he said, before passing the datapad over to Hec-Tor. “I’ll only be a moment, my Prince.”

Then, he turned away, heading over to the door of the nearby storage room. Hec-Tor had never been inside of it before, despite living his entire life inside the Creche. The door was locked by a palm scanner, which ensured nobody who wasn’t permitted to could get inside. However, he knew from watching Caduceus that the room was were all of the Creche’s medical supplies were kept, close enough to Hec-Tor that they could be used at a moment’s notice.

When Caduceus disappeared into the storage room, Hec-Tor finally dropped his gaze down to the datapad. He traced the line graph that Caduceus had been mentioning earlier, and was pleased to fin that his lungs were indeed on an upswing—perhaps the healthiest they had been in several months.

Then, he saw the line that he knew dictated what was ‘normal’—as Anillis said—or ‘average’—as Caduceus said. The line was still a good amount higher than Caduceus’s data collection was showing… and Hec-Tor knew that all of his other health charts showed similar issues.

He didn’t weigh enough and struggled to keep weight on. He was far skinnier than he should have been, with muscles that refused to fill out or wasted away, leading to hand tremors and a weakened heart. He wasn’t tall enough and likely wasn’t going to be anywhere near as tall as his brother. He didn’t have the endurance of a Pyrian his age and became winded far too quickly.

In spite of all that, though, he knew he  _ was _ getting better. His medications  _ did _ help him, even if he had once overheard Caduceus mentioning that he’d eventually peak, without getting close to where his brother wanted him to be. Anillis had been deeply disappointed by that, and his fretting had only gotten worse since.

He still refused to allow Hec-Tor to finally start combat training, and Hec-Tor’s ears burned blue as he remembered his brother’s reoccurring dismissal at his requests to finally move out of the Creche and get his own room elsewhere in the Imperial Wing. He had outgrown the Creche  _ years _ ago, even if he still hadn’t reached the age of majority.

It was ‘too dangerous’ and ‘unnecessary’.

Of course, while Anillis had been fretting over Hec-Tor’s supposed fragility, he hadn’t seemed to notice that a blaster had disappeared. If he had, he certainly hadn’t thought to check Hec-Tor’s room for it. Hec-Tor had been left to meticulously reverse engineer the components in his bedroom, under the cover of darkness, in between Caduceus’s nightly checks. It was the only time of day that Caduceus wasn’t watching him like a hawk when they were both in the Creche at the same time.

While Hec-Tor no longer doubted that Caduceus cared about him—even if it was still, at times, awkward to interact with him—he still struggled to trust his Minder at times. Caduceus still readily told Anillis whatever he wanted to know the moment he asked about it, so he would have immediately told Anillis if he had found Hec-Tor in possession of blaster components. While he insisted that it was part of his ‘purpose’ to do so, Hec-Tor had always suspected, just based on how terrified Caduceus became when it was brought up, that he was worried about what Anillis would do to Hec-Tor if he found out about Hec-Tor’s misbehavior…

Hec-Tor wasn’t scared of his brother, though… he was more worried about his brother’s disapproval.

Since he had managed to get his hands on the blaster, he had been disassembling it, stripping it down to its basic components. Then, trying to figure out how he could recreate and magnify the effect using some of the spare scrap he had laying around. Trinket had been his test subject, and with her help, he had been successful too. Although he had been intending to show his brother today, first he had to sit through a war meeting.

Granted, he had asked to attend, after misjudging how long it would take him to complete Trinket’s new-and-improved weapons system. He liked spending time with his brother anyway, even if Anillis could get a little moody at times. However, if Hec-Tor was helpful during the war meeting, then Anillis would absolutely be in a better mood when he finally got around to showing him Trinket.

Maybe he’d even give Hec-Tor the lab he had been begging for for years at this point.

“Alright, Hec-Tor,” Caduceus said as he finally emerged from the storage room, carrying the supplies he needed to draw a couple of tubes of blood.

At the sight of the needles, Hec-Tor shifted away from him.

Though Caduceus sighed, his expression was sympathetic. “Hec-Tor, I know you do not care for needles… but we’ll try to make this quick so that I can escort you to meet your brother.”

Hec-Tor gritted his teeth, his ears pinning back against the sides of his head. While he might have put up a fight when he was a pup, now that he was nearly grown, he rolled up his sleeve and held out his arm without a word.

—

Conquering was never an exact science… at least, that’s what Anillis often said when he was struggling with one of his conquests. Hec-Tor had never pointed out that what he was doing wasn’t  _ really _ a science…

Over the last couple months, Hec-Tor had attended several war meetings—his brother held them frequently, although Hec-Tor hadn’t been allowed to attend every single one. Some of them ran long hours, some were impromptu and held in the middle of the night when Hec-Tor had been asleep. But, according to his brother, all of them were about maintaining peace and order across the galaxy. He didn’t particularly  _ care _ about the war nor was he  _ interested _ in maintaining it, but attending war meetings with his brother had a way of softening the sourest of Anillis’s moods.

Of course, attending war meetings by choice had led to his brother being under the impression that Hec-Tor was finally trying to learn how to be the general he was expected to be. He wasn’t—and he would have preferred to stay hidden away in his ‘lab’ all day—but it had been… nice to see his brother so ecstatic about one of his decisions for once, instead of dismissive.

For several hours now, Hec-Tor had been standing at his brother’s right, in front of a large, three-dimensional map of Anillis’s current battlefield. For all his success as Horde Prime, there was still the occasional planet that managed to make itself a thorn in Anillis’s side. From what he had told Hec-Tor, the death world of Danaus was one such planet—allegedly, the natives were harboring fugitives and plotting a rebellion against the Empire, putting everyone else at risk.

Although the Horde’s armies could survive on the planet’s surface, due to how hardy Pryians were as a species, the natives had proven themselves to be what Anillis called an ‘unexpected inconvenience’. 

From what Hec-Tor had seen during the war meetings he had attended in the past, the natives of Danaus had been holding out against his brother by taking refuge in their heavily fortified cities, which just so happened to have anti-aircraft cannons poised to decimate the Horde’s fleets if they got within range. As a result, the occupation had been long and drawn out, costing his brother far more than he usually was willing to expend before making his final move. If not for those cannons, Anillis likely would have already taken Danaus weeks ago, without much fuss.

And yet, after several hours of discussion—which Hec-Tor had barely even participated in—there had been no forward movement. His brother and one of the field commanders, 004-5555, had been talking in circles, and no solid plan of attack had manifested. They were no closer to victory than they had been when the meeting first started, and Hec-Tor knew that his brother did not like failing at something he had, in his own words, been trained to do since he could barely even walk. His mood had been getting progressively worse the longer this meeting went on…

Luckily for his brother, Hec-Tor actually enjoyed studying history and had taken the time to research that of the natives, without prompting.

“Um…” Hec-Tor tried to speak up, although his voice came out painfully quiet and was barely audible over the ambient hum of the  _ Velvet Glove’s _ life-support system and energy grid. Though he was older now, and veered ever closer to the age where he would have been expected to be capable of commanding armies, he still had yet to develop much of what his brother called a ‘presence’. He struggled to mirror his brother’s general manner and affect, and had to compensate by raising his voice and shouting to be heard or noticed.

Still, one of his brother’s ears swiveled in the direction of his voice, even though Anillis’s gaze remained fixed on the map in front of them.

“… Anillis?” Hec-Tor spoke up again, louder this time, although his voice was even more tentative than it had been before. He spoke as though he was testing bath water, rather than speaking to his brother.

“Do you need something, Hec-Tor?” Anillis asked, with a touch more exasperation in voice than he likely meant to be there. “I feel compelled to remind you that you asked to attend this meeting—”

“I know, but—”

“—and that means that you can’t just go wandering off because you’ve grown bored,” Anillis continued, seeming to think that Hec-Tor was asking for dismissal so that he could go and do something else. “It is unbecoming of a prince to just—”

“But I have an idea!” Hec-Tor insisted, raising his voice, jerking his head in such a way that his hair became disheveled.

That seemed to give his brother pause, and his ears gave a contemplative twitch. Anillis’s gaze lingered on the map in front of them for a moment longer before his extra eyes shifted, independent of his natural eyes, and looked in Hec-Tor’s direction. Even though it had been years since Anillis had acquired his extra eyes, Hec-Tor still hadn’t gotten used to the presence of them. In spite of that, he managed to meet his brother’s half-gaze head on, clenching his hands into fists at his side.

Finally, Anillis turned his head, tilting it to the side. “Hec-Tor, you have not spoken the entire time you’ve been here,” he said sternly. “This is not a game.”

“I-I know,” Hec-Tor said, and his expression faltered under his brother’s gaze. He could feel the tips of his ears tinting blue, but he fought to maintain his composure in spite of that. “I really do have an idea… give me five minutes.”

Anillis sighed, pinching his nasal ridge between his fingers in exasperation. Then, he took a deep breath, and looked back at Hec-Tor, before he wordlessly motioned to the map and stepped back, allowing Hec-Tor to replace him.

Hec-Tor tentatively moved forward, lingering at the edge of the map as he considered it. He had been studying battle maps since he was a pup, during his lessons with his Minders. Even though Anillis seemed to think he didn’t pay attention, Hec-Tor did recognize all of the symbols on the map, from the encampments of the Empire’s soldiers—which numbered at least a dozen across the planet’s surface—to the markers indicating different cities of the natives—both those that had already been claimed and those that hadn’t. Their clan’s symbol, a pair of large, sweeping wings, were scattered across the map, indicating where the Horde’s presence was across the map.

“You… you said this was the only encampment near the capital?” Hec-Tor finally asked the commander standing across from him before he indicated to a pair of Kur’s Wings where they floated, just outside of the capital city’s firing range.

It took a moment for 004-5555 to realize that he had just been addressed directly. He frowned, but said nothing as he gazed at Hec-Tor in confusion.

Hec-Tor’s ears twitched impatiently. “Is it the only encampment or not?”

This time, uncertainty flashed across 004-5555’s features, and he glanced behind Hec-Tor at Anillis, as though he was seeking some kind of guidance. Hec-Tor heard his brother step up behind him, and he must have made some kind of gesture with his ears to tell 004-5555 it was alright to continue. 004-5555 only hesitated for a moment more before he reached out to press a button on the map’s console, bringing up a few more tokens that had been previously hidden, including one that seemed to be underground.

“The only ground encampment, my Prince,” 004-5555 said before he motioned to the cruisers that were currently orbiting the planet near to the capital city, represented by several pairs of Kur’s Wings. “We have been unable to bring our ships past the atmosphere. The planet has anti-aircraft—”

“Anti-aircraft cannons, which are hidden behind enemy lines,” Hec-Tor finished for him, and the tips of his ears gave the slightest of twitches. “I  _ know _ , I was listening before… about—about the cannons, I mean… um…” His confidence faltered as a brief lapse of nervousness took hold, but he took a deep breath and straightened his posture again. His hands went to the small of his back and he squared his shoulders as he had often seen Anillis do.

“So… we need to get behind enemy lines and disable the cannons,” he finally said.

“Yes, little one,” Anillis said patiently from behind him. “I take it your little ‘plan’ involves rectifying that…  _ issue _ .”

Then, Anillis reached out and threaded his talons through Hec-Tor’s snow white hair, setting it right again. However, Hec-Tor barely reacted to his brother’s touch—normally, he bumped the crown of his head against his brother’s hand—and instead kept staring at the map.

“… Anillis, did you run a subterranean planetary scan?” he asked, looking over his shoulder at his brother.

Anillis’s hand stilled in Hec-Tor’s hair and he regarded him with muted surprise. “I… did not feel it was pertinent,” he admitted, and for the first time in a long time, the tips of his ears actually tinted blue. “As far as we have been led to believe, the natives do not dwell beneath the surface… and there are no mining colonies near enough to the capital that there could possibly be tunnels.”

“But I was reading up on some of their old wars—” Hec-Tor began, and paused for a moment when his brother gave him a look, crossing his arms over his chest. Hec-Tor knew that his brother was not fond of his bad habit of becoming distracted during certain lessons because they didn’t hold his attention as well as others. He had been getting better about it, though.

“ _ After _ my lessons, I promise,” he assured Anillis.

His brother’s expression morphed to one of intrigue and curiosity. Hec-Tor knew that his brother had informants who were native to the planet that would have been giving him information—for the good of the galaxy, Hec-Tor assumed—but he also knew that his brother had been doing this since long before he had even taken his first breath. His insistence that Hec-Tor study history meant that he must have known the value of it.

A smile came to Anillis’s lips and he tilted his head to the side just so before he leaned down to speak to Hec-Tor in a low whisper, as though they were sharing a secret. “And just what did you find that our informants failed to mention to me, little one?” 

Hec-Tor perked up, ears and all. “I found mentions of some old tunnels beneath the capital that were used to move supplies and troops undetected prior to industrialization! They would have had multiple exit points for… for goods and possible evacuation routes in times of crisis,” he explained, and then his expression faltered for a moment as he got to the other part of his discovery. “Um… I-I don’t know if they’re even there still, but assuming they’re  _ functional _ , those tunnels could give you easy access to the capital. You could get in, locate the cannons, and disable them before the natives even realize you have gotten past their defenses.”

Anillis chuckled softly. “Very  _ good _ , little one,” he said as he stepped around Hec-Tor to stand in front of the map again. “We shall make you into a fine general yet.”

At the reminder of what his brother wanted him to be—a strong and successful general—Hec-Tor’s expression faltered and his ears drooped in disappointment. However, rather than try to argue with his brother or insist that he was a better scientist than he was a general, Hec-Tor took a deep breath and forced a smile. If Anillis noticed the lapse, he said nothing.

It didn’t matter. He had managed to put his brother in a good mood, which was all he had been hoping for. Now, all Hec-Tor had to do was make it through the rest of this war meeting, and since he didn’t have anything else to say, he didn’t feel the need to speak up again unless Anillis asked him for specifics on what he had read in the Archives. So, Hec-Tor remained silent as his brother and 004-5555 began trying to organize an assault on the capital city of Danaus.

—

By the time the meeting finally concluded several hours later, Hec-Tor was struggling to stand still—excess energy had been building the entire time that his brother and 004-5555 had been discussing a potential plan of action. However, Hec-Tor’s knowledge of the tunnels hadn’t been necessary, as a planetary scan had indeed shown they still existed. Scouts would be sent as soon as 004-5555 returned to Danaus so that they could assess the tunnels before planning the final attack.

Anillis didn’t dismiss 004-5555 with words—and if he had done so with a flick of his ears, Hec-Tor hadn’t caught it—but he nonetheless watched the commander disappear through the large doors at the end of the room.

“Now then,” Anillis said as he lightly touched Hec-Tor between his shoulder blades and began guiding him towards the same doors. “What has gotten you so excited, little one? Your ears have been twitching incessantly for the last hour.”

Hec-Tor hadn’t even noticed how much his ears had been twitching. “There’s—there’s something in my room that I’ve been wanting to show you, that’s all.”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Anillis sighed. His talon guard lightly clicked against his bracer as he thought. “Well, I don’t have any meetings for another hour or so… I have t—”

When Hec-Tor grabbed him by the arm and started dragging him down the hall, Anillis let out a rather undignified yelp. However, Hec-Tor didn’t comment on it, as he quickly turned down one of the halls that made up the labyrinth of the  _ Velvet Glove _ . He knew roughly where they were, though, even if he didn’t frequent this side of the Imperial Wing. He usually only came this way when he was visiting his brother during Anillis’s working hours, since his brother’s personal office was near here as well.

“Hec-Tor, calm down,” Anillis said with a teasing undertone to his voice—he must have been in a really good mood. “Surely whatever it is you want to show me can wait a couple more minutes.”

In spite of his good mood, however, there was still an underlying edge to his tone, as though he wasn’t expecting much to come of this little endeavor. Hec-Tor's ears tinged blue at the tips as he picked up on that. He had spent so many long nights trying to get Trinket’s weapons system working in a desperate attempt to impress his brother… and Anillis had no idea that’s why he had been so sleepy recently. When Trinket showcased her new blaster function, he’d be so impressed by what Hec-Tor had managed to accomplish all by himself. 

When they entered the Creche, Caduceus was nowhere to be seen. Usually, he arrived wherever Hec-Tor had been left with Anillis, and walked him back to the Creche himself. Hec-Tor doubted he had wandered very far, though, as Hec-Tor was due to take his afternoon medications soon.

“Alright, little one,” Anillis said, easing his arm out of Hec-Tor’s hold. He took a seat on the sectional in the center of the Creche, lounging back and crossing one leg over the other at the knee. “What is it that you wanted to show me?”

“Wait here,” Hec-Tor said, and he was barely able to keep his energy contained. For once, his hands were not shaking because of muscle tremors. “It’s in my room.”

Anillis rolled his eyes, but there was an amused twitch to his ears. “Go on then, I’ll wait here.”

Hec-Tor darted away, disappearing into his room. He wasn’t surprised that Caduceus hadn’t hidden himself away to clean—if he had heard Hec-Tor returning with Anillis, he would have come out to greet them. It was just as well, since Caduceus was terrified of Trinket, and didn’t like seeing her stumble around now that she came up to Hec-Tor’s thigh. Her new, bulkier body had been necessary, though, in order to properly fit in the amplifier for her weapons system. Once he had gotten the kinks worked out with this design, he could make her big enough for combat purposes.

Usually, Trinket stayed hidden inside his closet when she was powered down, and Hec-Tor had to use the entirety of his bodyweight to get her out of her hiding place. He grunted with effort and nearly toppled over her as she finally rolled and whirred to life. Rocking on her newly extended legs, Trinket let out a soft  _ bip bip _ . Patting her outer casing, Hec-Tor knelt beside her and quickly checked her over to make sure that everything was in working order.

“Hec-Tor?” Anillis called.

“Just a minute!” Hec-Tor shouted back, cupping his hands around his mouth. Then, he rose back to his feet and shook out his limbs. Beside him, Trinket seemed to mimic him, lifting one of her legs into the air and extending and retracting it with a faint  _ bwoop _ . “Alright, are you ready to show Anillis?”

Trinket let out a soft  _ bwip bwip _ , rocking on her legs excitedly.

Hec-Tor took one last deep breath, and then stepped back out into the main living area. Anillis was sitting right where Hec-Tor had left him, and one of his ears perked and turned in Hec-Tor’s direction.

“Alright, Hec-Tor, what is…” he trailed off when Trinket followed Hec-Tor out of his room. For a moment, Anillis was silent, staring at Trinket with wide, shocked eyes. “What is  _ that _ ?”

Even though his brother didn’t sound angry with him, Hec-Tor’s ears pinned back anyway. He hadn’t been expecting Anillis to sound so surprised and confused at the sight of Trinket. “Her name is Trinket,” he said, patting the bot’s outer casing. “Isn’t she beautiful? I just—”

“Hec-Tor,” Anillis said as he rose from his seat and strode across the room. Carefully, he put himself between Hec-Tor and Trinket, herding Hec-Tor a couple of feet back to put distance between the two of them. “Hec-Tor, we’ve spoken about your tinkering, yes?” he pressed and his gaze was locked on Trinket, as though he assumed she was a threat.

“But I just finished her!” Hec-Tor insisted, ducking beneath Anillis’s arm.

“Finished—”

“Trinket, fire!”

Anillis’s eyes widened in what seemed to be fright as a high-pitched whirring sound cut through the room. Trinket’s outer casing popped opening, revealing her internal weapons system, which glowed bright red as it slowly powered up. Before the weapon was fired, though, Hec-Tor was grabbed by his brother and shoved down onto the floor. There, Anillis shielded him a split second before Trinket actually fired. Hec-Tor didn’t see what exactly had happened, but he  _ heard _ it as the blast tore through a nearby wall, showering them in dust and debris.

Hec-Tor’s vision swam as he tried to regain his bearings, and above him, he heard Anillis coughing loudly as he must have accidentally inhaled some of the dust. Both of them were covered in a fine layer of white dust, presumably from the wall caving in on itself. When Hec-Tor managed to squirm free of his brother’s hold, he found a gaping hole in the wall— _ much _ larger than his initial tests had suggested was possible.

Giddily, Hec-Tor rose back to his feet and let out an excited chirp. “Anillis, did you see—”

“ _ Hec-Tor _ , oh Gods—” Anillis managed to gasp out, still struggling to catch his breath.

Hec-Tor froze and looked back at his brother, his eyes widening. “I—I just—”

“You could have  _ died _ !” Anillis scolded as he rose back to his feet. He started checking Hec-Tor over, turning his head this way and that. “What in the Void were you thinking?!”

There was a touch of desperation in his voice, and Hec-Tor realized he had inadvertently scared his brother. His ears drooped so far that the tips threatened to brush against his shoulders. “I… I wanted to finish Trinket, but since you wouldn’t put my requisitions through, I… I-I stole a blaster, and I’ve been reverse engineering it to make sure the system was perfect and—”

“You  _ what _ ?” Anillis asked, horrified. “Has your minder been paying attention to you at  _ all _ ?!”

Hec-Tor pouted irritably at the mention of Caduceus. “I did it without him knowing,” he state firmly—hoping that Caduceus wouldn’t get in trouble for his error. “This wouldn’t happen if you’d give me a lab, you know. I’d have proper equipment and testing areas—”

Anillis took a deep breath, closing all four of his eyes in what seemed to be exasperation. “Hec-Tor, are you implying that if you are not given a lab, you will continue to put yourself in danger like this?”

Hec-Tor glared at him. “Yes.”

Opening his eyes again, Anillis sighed heavily. “ _ Fine _ ,” he said simply. “You will have your little lab, but you will be under supervision at all times, and I will approve whatever projects you are working on there. If I decide that a project is too dangerous, you are to drop it. Is that clear?”

Although it was difficult, Hec-Tor managed to keep himself from letting out another excited chirp. “Yes!” he said, ears twitching excitedly. “Whatever you say, Anillis. Yes!”

Anillis crossed his arms over his chest, glancing back at the hole in the wall through narrowed eyes. His talon guard clicked against his bracer as he seemed to be lost in thought. A moment later, two Attendants appeared, peering through the hole in the wall—both looked at the hole in shock, with wide, citrine green eyes, and then looked at Anillis for some kind of guidance.

“Clean this up at once,” Anillis requested. “And then we can figure out where we’re putting Prince Hec-Tor’s new lab.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prime: doesn't allow hec-tor a proper outlet for his hyperfixations, thinks it'll just go away and that he's keeping his baby bro safe  
> hec-tor: blows a hole in his bedroom wall with explosives he reverse-engineered in his bedroom, ends up becoming an absolutely feral engineer  
> prime: Surprised Pikachu Face


	7. Part VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me before S5: i'm going to finish this fic before the show ends  
> me after S5: and then it sat there for SIX MONTHS
> 
> anyway, i am now going to finish this fic and then we can get onto the 120k long sequel i drafted in four months (:

When Hec-Tor’s masking had first started coming, many years ago, he had been thrilled. To him, that first patch of white appearing on the tip of his ear was a sign that he was finally growing up. His brother would finally begin to take him seriously, he would be allowed to develop into his own person, perhaps even be given some amount of independence away from his Minder. As time went on and his masking began to come in more fully, however, Hec-Tor slowly began to realize that he would not be getting his wish. His brother only grew more strict, and though he was given some allowances—his sanctum being the most long-lasting and prominent one—Hec-Tor was still always under the ever-watchful eye of Caduceus. He was very rarely left to his own devices, and when he was, he was often confined to a single area within the Imperial Wing.

His brother had often stressed that no wandering was permitted—it wouldn’t do to have him running into something he couldn’t possibly have hoped to handle, after all.

On some level, Hec-Tor could understand his brother’s strictness. The world outside the walls of the  _ Velvet Glove _ was disorderly, chaotic, and far too dangerous for someone like him to travel unsupervised. But surely— _ surely _ the ship was safe enough that Hec-Tor could have gone anywhere he liked, without fear of being attacked by those who might have sought to harm him. His brother would have never let something like that happen to him, and the… the Attendants were never very far off. They seemed to occupy every corner of the  _ Velvet Glove _ , milling around and awaiting orders or hurrying about to complete their assigned tasks…

… Hec-Tor had never really given much thought to where the Attendants—and, by extension, Caduceus—had truly come from. When he was a pup, he had never really cared to know, even if he was curious, even if he had realized what they were when he was quite young. As far as he was concerned, Caduceus was his caretaker, his  _ friend _ … or as close as he was going to get on this ship, seeing as he had never really been permitted to interact with people his own age. The fact that Caduceus was a clone hadn’t  _ mattered _ to him… but he had been naive enough to assume that the Attendants were clones of his brother.

Not clones of  _ himself. _

As he stared into the mirror of his vanity, Hec-Tor found it difficult to see his reflection as his own… the face that stared back at him was the one that had been worn by every single Attendant he had ever come into contact with, as far back as his memory would go. His brother had always been dismissive when he had pressed about the origins of the clones, insisting that Hec-Tor would understand their true nature in time. When he was older, stronger, wiser…

“… Caduceus?” Hec-Tor spoke up tentatively.

There was a brief pause before Caduceus’s voice came from the bathroom, where he had disappeared only moments prior to get a washcloth. “… 001-11992,” he corrected Hec-Tor—an old habit of his that seemed to be hard to break.

Hec-Tor ignored him, and one of his ears swiveled back in the direction of the bathroom’s door when he heard the soft sound of Caduceus’s footsteps moving across the plush rug in the center of his bedroom. In his lap, Hec-Tor’s hands had curled into fists, talons biting at the sensitive skin of his palms. “Caduceus, can’t I… can’t I do my own make up?” he asked hopefully. “Or—or pick my own jewelry?”

Hec-Tor fell silent as he watched a perfect mirror of his own face pass behind him in the reflection of the vanity, and he tried very hard to keep his expression neutral, even as a plethora of emotions swirled around inside his head. However, if Caduceus noticed his unease, he didn’t comment on it, and merely set down the washcloth beside the selection of makeup and jewelry he had already set out for Hec-Tor.

“Apologies, my Prince,” Caduceus said, and although his voice was calm, it was grating to Hec-Tor’s ears. “Your Emperor has a very specific… ‘look’ he wishes for you to wear today. You are not permitted to deviate from it.”

A retort—that Anillis was his  _ brother _ , not his  _ Emperor _ —lingered on the tip of Hec-Tor’s tongue but he managed to bite it back. Instead, a frustrated growl rose in the back of his throat before he could stop it. “Don’t you think I’m old enough to do my own makeup, at least?”

“… my thoughts on the matter are not pertinent, Hec-Tor,” Caduceus reminded him, although his gaze remained on the jewelry he had laid out across Hec-Tor’s vanity earlier, shortly after waking Hec-Tor for the day.

Hec-Tor opened his mouth to retort—to insist that he wanted to hear what Caduceus had to say—but caught himself before he could. Although he had never actually snapped at Hec-Tor for doing so, Caduceus had never liked it when he was pressed for his personal thoughts on anything… so, Hec-Tor chose to remain silent, and allow his Minder to work as he stared at his reflection in the mirror.

Caduceus’s reflection was next to his now, mirroring his own almost perfectly. The only true differences between their faces were the mottling of blue at the tip of Caduceus’s left ear and their eye colors. Where Hec-Tor’s eyes were red, as they always had been, Caduceus’s were the same color as Anillis’s, a bright, citrine green. When Hec-Tor was little, he had always found his Minders sharing his brother’s eye color calming, in it’s own way. To him, it had meant  _ safety _ .

Now, though… now it was just unnerving, and Hec-Tor couldn’t help but feel as though his brother was always watching him and aware of his every move.

At the thought, his heart leapt into his throat, and he clenched his hands that much harder. This time, his talons broke through the skin of his palms, and he was out of his seat at the vanity before Caduceus could react. He barely registered the sound of Caduceus’s voice shouting after him as he ducked into the bathroom. When he heaved over the edge of the sink, nothing came up, leaving him sputtering and coughing and shaking and—and—

His vision swam as he gripped the counter, taking deep breaths in an attempt to steady himself again. To  _ prevent _ himself from fainting—after years of suffering from them, he knew what the onset of a fainting spell looked like only too well. If he did faint, he would be forced to remain in bed for the rest of the day, at the behest of his brother, even if he felt fine otherwise.

“Hec-Tor, what has gotten into—” Caduceus cut off as stepped into the bathroom after him. In the mirror, Hec-Tor watched as Caduceus’s brow pinched, his mouth became set in a hard line, and his ears fluttered in anxiety. “My Prince, is it a fainting spell?”

“I… I just need a minute,” Hec-Tor managed to insist, even though it was a struggle to keep air down. He was slowly beginning to lose feeling in his limbs. “I—I’m  _ fine _ , I just… I just need—”

Caduceus said nothing as he walked around Hec-Tor and plucked a second washcloth off of a nearby rack. Then, he approached the sink and turned the knob. Water cascaded forth into the basin and slowly ran down the drain, disappearing out of sight. Carefully, Caduceus guided Hec-Tor to lean his head down over the basin and gently placed the washcloth over the back of his neck, leaving the sink running.

“Deep breaths, Hec-Tor…” he instructed as he reached out and began to rub Hec-Tor’s back in slow, soothing circles. “It will pass, in time…”

There was a certain edge to Caduceus’s voice—as though he was speaking from experience—but in his distraction, Hec-Tor couldn’t have been sure. And he wasn’t in the position to ask. Instead, he began following Caduceus’s instructions, taking in deep measured breaths in an attempt to calm himself down again. Caduceus remained at his side the entire time, continuing to rub his back gently, until his hand finally stilled when Hec-Tor’s breathing had evened out again.

“… Caduceus?” Hec-Tor asked as Caduceus stepped forward and gently took hold of his wrist. He still avoided his Minder’s gaze—an easy enough feat, as Caduceus stood just a touch taller than he did, presumably because he had been born healthy, rather than being plagued by health issues his entire life.

“I am trying to take your heart rate, Hec-Tor,” Caduceus said firmly, though not unkindly.

Hec-Tor decided not to comment on how Caduceus hadn’t corrected him on not using his serial number. “Am I going to be required to stay in bed?” he asked instead.

Although Caduceus didn’t respond immediately, his ears twitched as he appeared to mull the question over. “As you did not actually faint, there is no reason to restrict you to bed rest,” he said as he released his hold on Hec-Tor’s wrist. “Your energy levels seem to be otherwise normal, you heart rate is going down—” He paused and reached up to lightly rub the mottled tip of his ear, avoiding Hec-Tor’s gaze. “—you will need to drink more water today in order to stay hydrated, and I will request more food than normal for your meals in order to keep your blood sugar up.”

Hec-Tor managed a nod as he turned back to the sink basin. There was still a shake in his shoulders, but at least he no longer felt as though he was about to collapse to the floor. Behind him in the mirror, he watched as Caduceus opened his mouth, and then closed it again as he seemed to rethink what he was about to say.

“I… I just need five more minutes,” Hec-Tor insisted, unwilling to meet his Minder’s eye. His hands were shaking, and he clenched them into fists in an attempt to still them. Once again, his talons dug into his palms, and the bite of that kept him grounded.

Caduceus hesitated for a moment longer before he dipped into a low, respectful bow. “Of course, my Prince,” he said in a soft voice. “I shall wait outside. When you’re ready, we can finish getting you ready for the day.” And then, he was gone, leaving Hec-Tor alone in the bathroom.

Hec-Tor raised his gaze back to the mirror, leaning forward and gripping the counter so hard that his talons left scratches behind on the pristine marbled surface, defacing it in such a way that surely would have gotten him scolded. But that was unimportant to him at the moment. He managed to tear his gaze away from the water running from the tap and gingerly reached up and lightly press his fingers against the white of his cheeks, and he was once again confronted with the knowledge that had caused his initial panic.

His hands began shaking again, and he struggled to keep his breathing even as he leaned more heavily against the counter.

And then he vomited into the sink.

—

When Hec-Tor finally emerged from the bathroom—after having taken ten minutes, rather than five—Caduceus said nothing, nor did they speak as Caduceus finished preparing Hec-Tor for the day. It was only after Caduceus decided his appearance was ‘perfect’ that Hec-Tor was finally escorted to his sanctum. It was not far from the safety of the Creche, which had been a specification that Anillis had insisted upon. Several bedrooms—which would have seen no use otherwise—had been merged into one and refitted with all of the equipment that Hec-Tor could have possibly needed.

When Hec-Tor had initially asked his brother for a lab of his own, he had envisioned being given access to the sprawling complex that existed on one of the lower sub-decks of the  _ Velvet Glove _ . He knew this complex existed… he had seen it once while reading through some old schematics for the ship, many years ago when his brother had first given him more access to the Archives. Now, though, Hec-Tor realized that perhaps his brother had never let him down into the labs on purpose.

His brother might not—no, Anillis  _ absolutely _ did not want him to see what was down there.

Anillis had never liked it when Hec-Tor asked him questions about the Attendants. He had liked it even less when Hec-Tor acted around them in a certain way… like when he had been little more than a toddler, and his brother had lost his temper when Hec-Tor insisted that his Minders deserved names. That it was  _ unfair _ that they did not have them. His brother had been so dismissive, stating that he would eventually understand, but finally realizing what he had that morning had left him more confused than ever.

He tried not to let his thoughts linger on it too much, and thankfully, returning to his sanctum for another day of work was a welcome distraction from his tumultuous thoughts. He spent most of his mornings there, fiddling with a project of his or writing on the board his brother had given him as a gift after his scribblings had begun to edge their way from the pages of his notebooks and onto his skin. His brother had been concerned he would suddenly keel over just from that alone.

His hands were still shaking as he carefully made notes on the board for one of his latest projects—his brother had wanted him to implement some improvements to the shock troopers he used in the field. The bots were heavily modified based on his own research he had been doing since he was very young, using Trinket’s internal circuitry as a base. According to Anillis, however, Hec-Tor’s original design, which he had specifically made impossible to topple over, was not ‘aesthetically pleasing’ enough, leading to some major design flaws that needed to be smoothed out. It would involve quite a bit of tweaking, but Hec-Tor hoped that he would be able to deliver on what his brother wanted from him.

Tapping his chin lightly with his marker, Hec-Tor stepped away from the board as he looked over the diagrams that he had just finished sketching up. Hec-Tor could feel Caduceus’s presence at his side as he peered at the board, even if he couldn’t make sense of the writing. He had been sticking to Hec-Tor through the morning, monitoring him more closely than usual due his near-fainting, but there wasn’t much else for him to do aside from fetch tools when Hec-Tor asked for them.

“… do you think he’ll like it?” Hec-Tor whispered, even though it was just the two of them in the sanctum.

Out of the corner of his eye, Hec-Tor saw the corner of Caduceus’s mouth quirk upwards into the makings of a smile. It dropped away almost immediately, however, as one of Caduceus’s ears swiveled in the direction of the main door leading into the sanctum. His expression fell away and was replaced by a mostly neutral one as he turned his head. Behind them, Hec-Tor heard the door to the sanctum open and then, the sound of brother’s hurried footsteps met his ears. He glanced over his shoulder, following his Minder’s gaze, and watched as Anillis stepped into the lab.

Beside Hec-Tor, Caduceus immediately bowed low at the waist, but said nothing.

“Good morning, Anillis,” Hec-Tor said, offering his brother a smile.

Anillis, however, did not extend the same greeting as he strode forward. “How are you feeling?” he asked instead. There was a breathlessness to his voice, as though he had been walking far more briskly than normal, and Hec-Tor’s ears shifted back as he realized that perhaps Caduceus had already informed him about what had happened that morning. At the time, Anillis would have been in a meeting, but hearing that Hec-Tor had almost fainted might have made him frantic enough to end said meeting at the earliest convenience. Such had happened multiple times in the past.

“Fine,” Hec-Tor said curtly before he indicated to the board with his ears. “I am almost done with the design modifications on the—”

“001-11992 informed me that you nearly fainted earlier,” Anillis cut in, before his gaze fell to Hec-Tor’s hands, which still held a slight shake. All four of Anillis’s eyes widened a fraction in the closest approximation to ‘fright’ Hec-Tor could remember his brother showing in a long time. “Hec-Tor, you hand tremors are back.”

Hec-Tor managed to resist the urge to growl in frustration, but his jaw clenched all the same. His hand tremors were why he had decided against fiddling with wire and electricity today. He hadn’t wanted to shock himself accidentally. The fretting would have been even worse then. “I  _ know _ , Anillis.”

“Then I do not understand why you are here, in your lab—”

“ _ Sanctum _ …” Hec-Tor muttered under his breath. He hadn’t intended for his brother to hear him, but his voice ended up carrying.

Anillis paused and then took a deep breath. “Hec-Tor,” he said, with a strained patience. “Must we have another discussion about your mumbling?”

Hec-Tor clenched the marker more tightly in his hand as he tentatively met his brother’s gaze. Anillis stared back at him through four narrowed eyes, frowning deeply.

“Apologies, Anillis,” Hec-tor said, and though he tried to keep his tone even, his annoyance and frustration still bled through. “I was… merely correcting you on the proper terminology. It is not important.”

“Proper terminology?” Anillis echoed.

“Yes,” Hec-Tor said, nodding. “I call it my ‘sanctum’, actually, and—”

“ _ Sanctum _ ?” Anillis echoed with an underlying touch of mirth to his voice. “Of course you would call it that, little one… you’ve always been so dramatic.”

Hec-Tor’s ears flattened against the sides of his head, flushing blue at the tips. His talons dug into the soft fabric of his sleeve as he tucked his arms at the small of his back. “I really do feel fine,” he insisted meekly. Although his hand tremors hadn’t gone away, he hadn’t felt faint since that morning and Caduceus had been very attentive towards him. His brother had no reason to act like this.

Anillis, however, did not look convinced. “001-11992,” he said, before his two natural eyes moved to look at the Minder, while the others remained trained upon Hec-Tor. “What is your prognosis?”

Caduceus’s eyes widened a fraction, as though he was surprised that he had been addressed. “His… his heart rate has been normal since the incident, Horde Prime,” he said, and there was no shake in his voice, despite how unnerved he seemed to be. “I have remained at his side the entire time and ensure that he has been staying hydrated. His hand tremors are a non-issue, and Prince Hec-Tor has been working hard all morning to complete the modifications to the shock troopers, as you requested.”

“Is that so?” Anillis said, before he _ finally _ shifted his gaze to the board that Hec-Tor had been standing in front of all morning.

While his brother’s attention was elsewhere, Hec-Tor stole a glance at Caduceus. However, he merely indicated to the board with his ears, and then turned away without a word, leaving the two of them alone. He took up a post near the door to the sanctum instead.

“Uh… yes,” Hec-Tor said quickly as he turned to face the board again. “I—I fixed the balance issues that have been reported in the field. You will be able to put the new and improve bots into mass production soon… assuming these designs are what you had in mind?”

“Impressive indeed, little one,” Anillis said, and Hec-Tor perked up, ears and all at the praise. “We shall discuss the details later, over dinner perhaps?” he added, offering Hec-Tor a smile as he turned his gaze back onto him.

Hec-Tor quickly nodded, returning his brother’s smile.

“Until then, I am afraid I must leave you,” Anillis said, already turning away. “I have a meeting I must attend to.”

The urge to ask if he could accompany him lingered on the tip of Hec-Tor’s tongue, but frankly, he would have preferred to stay in the sanctum with Caduceus. Lately, his brother’s meetings had begun dragging on and on for hours at end, and Hec-Tor held little patience for that. So, instead, he remained where he stood and watched his brother leave.

As his brother disappeared into the hall, Hec-Tor noticed that he didn’t even look at Caduceus. Although Caduceus bowed at the waist, and seemed otherwise unaffected, his ears continued twitching at the tips in such a way that Hec-Tor couldn’t help but feel unnerved. It was only once the door to the sanctum slid closed again that Caduceus rose back to his full height and glanced back in Hec-Tor’s direction. Hec-Tor hadn’t given much thought to his revelation from that morning since arriving at the sanctum. Burying himself in his work whenever he had become particularly upset about something had become second nature to him at this point, but seeing a near-perfect mirror of his own face staring back at him brought all of his earlier fears back to the surface.

Hec-Tor knew himself—he would never work up the nerve to press Anillis about why he had been cloned, not without some kind of evidence that Anillis couldn’t possibly hope to dismiss. Perhaps the reason that he had been cloned for in the first place. Hec-Tor was struggling to understand why his brother had decided it was necessary to do that… by his brother’s own admission, Hec-Tor was sickly, fragile,  _ delicate _ . None of it made sense to Hec-Tor.

If Anillis had only wanted an army and labor force, he would have just cloned himself. 

Hec-Tor’s hands were shaking again as his gaze dropped to the floor. “Caduceus, may I go to the Archives?” he asked tentatively, refusing to look his Minder in the eye.

“… what is it you wish to research, my Prince?” Caduceus asked as he approached Hec-Tor again. “The Archives can easily forward the necessary documents to your datapad… there is no need for you to visit them in person.”

Hec-Tor said nothing immediately, carefully weighing his options. He was certain that Anillis would disapprove of what he wanted to ‘research’ down in the Archives. He had always been dismissive of Hec-Tor’s curiosity in the past. While Hec-Tor supposed that he could have asked Caduceus, he doubted that his Minder was aware of the finer details… and Caduceus also was reluctant to go against Anillis’s orders.

It wasn’t like it mattered much anyway. There was no way for him to get to the Archives unless he had an Attendant or Caduceus accompanying him. All of the doors and the elevators aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ were keyed to the palm prints of those who worked there. Anillis would have known if someone who wasn’t supposed to be there—namely, Hec-Tor—was trying to get past a door they weren’t supposed to…

… but even if he had Caduceus with him, Anillis would find out regardless because he always seemed to know everything that happened when Caduceus was around…

… but Hec-Tor needed  _ answers _ …

“Hec-Tor?” Caduceus prompted, bringing Hec-Tor’s out of his thoughts.

“Nothing. It’s nothing,” Hec-Tor finally said, turning back to the board. “Forget I said anything. It—It isn’t important.”

—

In spite of Anillis’s promise, he and Hec-Tor did not end up having dinner together. If the message he had sent Hec-Tor was anything to go by, something had come up that required his full attention. Hec-Tor understood—his brother was very busy and his time was finite. He couldn’t always make time to spend with Hec-Tor, as much as they both wished he could.

So, Hec-Tor had been left to his own thoughts. For most of the afternoon, he had fiddled with some ideas of his—improving the fleet’s landing ships being amongst his top priorities—but all the while he continued mulling over how he could possibly get into the Archives undetected. It was the only way to find the answers he had been searching for, and once inside, he knew it would probably have been easy enough to access the computers. Anillis had never given him any reason to believe that the computers had palm scanners like all the doors aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ did.

All he would need was the password required to access them, rather than a much more easily traceable palm print.

It was only when he had been herded back to the Creche by Caduceus, made to eat dinner despite his lack of appetite, and left to relax before he was expected to go to bed, that he found himself unable to settle. Earlier, he had at least been able to focus on his work, but now that he had been left alone in his bedroom, he set to pacing back and forth at the foot of his bed.

There had to be a way to get past the palm scanners without his brother noticing. It would have been easier said than done. Hec-Tor was well aware that the palm scanners were used to track movement around the  _ Velvet Glove _ , even if his brother might have assumed he hadn’t noticed. Despite being clones, all of the Attendants had unique hand prints, and Anillis had been smart enough to realize that it was an easy way to keep track of who moved where. Nobody could go where Anillis didn’t want them to.

That included Hec-Tor, and he was even more aware that most of the scanners aboard the ship were locked specifically to him. With a snarl of frustration, Hec-Tor turned on his heel again, before he was tempted to grab the nearest figurine off his shelf and lob it at the far off wall.

Over the years, he had mentally cataloged every door that he could bypass on his own, without a Minder accompanying him. There were exactly four he was capable of opening by himself. The door to his own bedroom, the door to his brother’s bedroom, the main door of the Creche, and the door to his sanctum. Every other door aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ was locked to him. He had never been able to open the door to the elevator on his own. His Minders had always had to do that for him. Even the door to the  _ gardens _ was locked to him.

As he turned again, his talons dug into the sleeve of his nightgown, threatening to tear the fabric and nick the sensitive skin of his arms. He barely noticed.

Hec-Tor had made a habit out of finding solutions to the problem at hand—he  _ always _ worked through any issues he had managed to stumble across. Anillis had always said that he was very ‘spirited’, which was something he said when Hec-Tor was being stubborn and willful, but Hec-Tor didn’t think his brother was necessarily wrong. He would find a way to get down to the Archives, he just needed more time—

One of his ears flicked as the humming of the life support system shifted suddenly, and Hec-Tor froze mid-stride. The same ear swiveled back in the direction of the vent that was just above his vanity, and he let out a shaky breath. That vent was directly connected to the ventilation system that encompassed the entire ship. Hec-Tor had studied the schematics of the  _ Velvet Glove _ thoroughly, and he knew how the different parts of the ship connected and worked together.

The Imperial Wing’s ventilation system connected directly to the elevator shafts, and all the elevators had hatches on top of them for maintenance purposes…

… that could work.

Hec-Tor’s thoughts came to a grinding halt when the door to his room opened, and Caduceus strode in. He paused just past the doorway and glanced down at the rug where Hec-Tor had been pacing not even a minute before. His ears gave a worried flick as his citrine green gaze shifted back to Hec-Tor.

“Is something troubling you, Hec-Tor?” Caduceus asked, tilting his head to the side. “If this is about your brother not being able to see you at dinner—”

“No!” Hec-Tor said quickly, shaking his head. “I am just… tired, I think?”

Caduceus’s gaze softened just a tad, and he let out a quiet sigh. “Well, then it might be time for you to go to bed.”

Hec-Tor didn’t argue with him on that. However, even once he had been comfortably tucked into bed, with the curtains drawn around him, Hec-Tor didn’t attempt to fall asleep. He wouldn’t have been able to anyway, not now that he had realized there was indeed a way to get down to the Archives while avoiding detection. But he also knew that he couldn’t be hasty. Caduceus always checked on him several times throughout the night, just in case he needed something.

It was an antiquated practice, in Hec-Tor’s opinion, considering he had recently reached the age of majority and didn’t need his Minder checking on him as though he was a toddler… but by now, he had become familiar with how the schedule worked.

Caduceus would only cease checks around the middle of the ship’s night cycle. By then, he would have assumed that Hec-Tor would sleep through the night and didn’t need anything, and Hec-Tor had always assumed that meant that Caduceus would go and get some rest himself. He didn’t actually know if Caduceus slept then, but Caduceus wouldn’t show up again until around zero-eight-hundred, when he would wake Hec-Tor and help him prep for the day.

It was only a brief amount of time, but it was hopefully enough that Hec-Tor could move about the ship without worrying about his Minder wandering into his room and noticing his bed was empty.

—

The last evening check finally rolled around. As Caduceus padded about the room, obscured by the curtains of the bed, Hec-Tor pretended to be asleep. For a few agonizingly long minutes, Hec-Tor lay there and listened, trying his hardest to keep his breathing even. If Caduceus detected anything was amiss, he’d check on Hec-Tor, and then probably not leave again. The entire plan would’ve been shot, and Hec-Tor would have to try again tomorrow or the next day.

Much to Hec-Tor’s relief, Caduceus disappeared from the room, and the door slid shut, locking in place behind him. Hec-Tor let out a deep breath and propped himself up. His ears flicked nervously as he listened, peeking out from behind the curtains surrounding his bed. The room was indeed empty, and there was no sign of Caduceus. Carefully, Hec-Tor climbed out of bed, and with light feet, he moved to the door. There, he pressed his ear against it, listening to the Creche outside for any signs of movement.

There was nothing. The Creche was silent.

Stepping back from the door, Hec-Tor hurried over to the vent that was just above his vanity. Carefully, he climbed up to get a closer look and was relieved to find that the vent was being held in place by simple screws. He actually had the tools to undo them himself in his bedroom, as he had kept the old set of tools he had used for tinkering when he had been a child. The tools were a little too small for his hands now, but using them, he managed to pop open the vent and set the grate carefully to the side.

Climbing into the vent was another ordeal entirely. Even though Hec-Tor was skinny for his age, he was not by any means light, and he nearly reached Anillis’s shoulder now. With his utter lack of upper body strength, it would have posed a probably if he had been so tenacious about actually finding the answers he sought. He was huffing by the time he managed to hoist himself into the ventilation shaft, and he paused there, taking a couple of deep breaths for the exertion.

It was only then that he realized what exactly he was doing. His brother would be furious if he ever heard about this. Hec-Tor glanced back into his bedroom, knowing that there was still time to turn back. He could have put the grate back in place, curled up in bed, and actually gone to bed. Nobody would have known what he had been intending to do, and he could go about his life without thinking about it ever again.

But he also knew that if he didn’t do this  _ now _ , he’d never pluck up the courage to attempt it again.

Taking one last calming breath, Hec-Tor turned away from his bedroom, and began crawling through the vents—he quickly realized that attempting this in his floor-length nightgown was probably not the best idea, but he hadn’t wanted to waste time changing into something else. He knew roughly where the elevators were, so he headed in that direction first. Once he got to the elevators, reaching the Archives should have been easy enough. He knew roughly which sub-deck the Archives were on, so he’d just have to press buttons until he got let out on the right floor.

Along the way, Hec-Tor passed by a couple of grates that would have let him out into the hallways, dining rooms, storage rooms, unused bedrooms, and at least one kitchen. However, he saw hardly any Attendants. He was thankful for that. Otherwise, he would have been worried that he’d be sniffed out and caught. Anillis would have been  _ furious _ with him if that had happened.

He crawled through the maze of vents for what felt like an eternity before finally coming across the elevators. Cautiously, Hec-Tor poked his head out into the shaft and peered down into the inky abyss below. When he glanced up, however, he found that he could see the top of the elevator shaft. That lined up with the schematics he had studied. The  _ Velvet Glove _ was not a small ship. It had hundreds of sub-decks, each serving its own purpose. He needed to go down to one of the lower ones to find the Archives…

There was a high-pitched squeal, and a moment later, the elevator slowly emerged from the shadowy depths of the elevator shaft. Hec-Tor waited until it was close enough and had stopped just below him before he carefully climbed on top of it. He quickly grabbed hold of one of the bars on top that were there to provide leverage for maintenance workers. Slowly, he opened the latch atop the elevator, easing it open so that he could peer inside. There was a single Attendant standing just below him, waiting for the doors to open, and when they did, he quickly exited, leaving the elevator empty.

As soon as the doors closed behind him, the elevator lurched as it began its descent again. Hec-Tor was nearly knocked off balance, but he quickly caught himself, and eased the latch open more so that he could carefully drop down into the elevator. He stumbled when he landed, but managed to catch himself before he fell over. With wide eyes, he glanced around the elevator. This was the first time he had actually been  _ alone _ in one. He gaze fell upon the buttons that would take him to all of the different floors aboard the  _ Velvet Glove _ . Thankfully, these were actually labeled, and he quickly found the one that read ‘Archives and Laboratories’ and pushed that one. The elevator gave another jerk and slowly began descending deeper into the ship.

Hec-Tor held his breath as the elevator passed by floor after floor, knowing that this was all going entirely too well. Something was going to happen. The door would open and there would be an Attendant standing there. He would be dragged back to the Imperial Wing and his brother would be furious with him. He would never find the answers he sought. Nervously, he began fiddling with the fraying thread at the hem of his sleeve, his eyes never straying from the lights that indicated which floor he was currently on.

Finally, the elevator came to a halt, and Hec-Tor realized he had actually made it to his destination. It had almost been too easy to get this far.

Cautiously, he poked his head out of the elevator, his ears alert as he looked around the landing. It was mercifully empty, so if he was quick, he could disappear into the shadows before anybody noticed he was there at all. He could get what he needed and then get out the way he had come before anybody knew where he was or what he was doing… he’d be back in bed long before he was missed.

As Hec-Tor crept through the halls, though, he ended up coming across a large window that looked down into one of the labs. He paused mid-stride and peered in through the window, ears twitching curiously. He so rarely left the Imperial Wing that seeing a new space with new things had always been a mesmerizing experience for him. However, he very quickly realized that he shouldn’t have paused there—the room was a cloning facility, and a rather large one at that. From the floor to the ceiling, there were vitrines stacked across many different levels, each one containing a figure.

There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of tubes in there… and only a handful of them were empty.

Hec-Tor found himself frozen in place as he watched a Supervising Drone circle the room, checking over the vitrines. While Attendants and Minders had always been very kind towards him, Hec-Tor couldn’t remember if he’d ever actually met a Supervising Drone before. They mostly stayed down in the labs and carried out medical research for his brother—Anillis hardly ever actually came down here himself. The Supervising Drone down below turned away from the vitrine he had been looking at, and Hec-Tor saw his own face staring back at him.

He quickly turned away, his ears flicking back and pinning against the sides of his head. His hands had begun shaking again, but he took a deep breath in an attempt to still them. He was here for information, it wouldn’t do to get distracted like he had.

Taking a second, deeper breath, Hec-Tor continued making his way through the halls. He kept an ear out for any signs of approaching Attendants or Supervising Drones. As he had never actually been down to this sub-deck before, he wasn’t accustomed to the schedules of those that worked there. However, he didn’t run into anyone, and eventually came to a room that was marked as being a part of the Archives. His ears shifted forward as he approached the door, and to his relief, it was open. He quickly ducked inside.

The Archives consisted of several hundred shelves that were used to store paper materials—either that had yet to be digitized or that were already digitized but kept as hard copies. Hec-Tor knew that the majority of the physical Archives were back on their home planet of Vampyrus. He had occasionally asked for original hard copies from those archives for his research, and Anillis had usually been more than willing to get what he needed. However, he rather doubted that the files of the clones aboard the ship were kept in a physical form, so he bypassed all of the shelves and headed straight for the console that was in the center of the room.

When he trailed his fingers across the keyboard, the holoscreen lit up, casting the Archives in pale green light. Hec-Tor’s ears shifted forward in interested as he considered the interface—it was asking for a password. While Hec-Tor had his own password that gave him access to a large chunk of the databases they had aboard the ship, what information was actually avaliable to him was dictated by his clearance.

And he knew that his clearance didn’t allow him access to what he was after.

However, he wasn’t going to allow that to stop him. He knew several other passwords—several of his brother’s among them. Anillis had to tendency to forget when he was listening in on conversations or assumed that Hec-Tor wouldn’t remember something like that. Hec-Tor had never really seen much reason to put the passwords to use, until now. Taking a deep breath, Hec-Tor carefully typed in one of the passwords he had seen his brother use on many occasions in the past.

This one, as it happened, was the name of their  _ ami _ …

He clicked each letter slowly and deliberately—an N, followed by an E, and then a V—keeping his eyes trained on the screen. He didn’t know how often Anillis changed his passwords, if he ever did at all, but his hands were shaking when he finally hit the enter key and waited for the Archives to respond.

_ Welcome Horde Prime Anillis Kur _ .

Hec-Tor’s breath left him as the message flashed across the screen. His ears perked as he glanced nervously around the Archives, waiting for the alarms to start blaring and alert everyone on this sub-deck to what he had done wrong. Anillis wouldn’t be far behind… Hec-Tor would be in so much trouble…

But there was nothing. The only sounds in the room were the low humming of the computer terminal, the whisper of the life support systems, and his own soft breathing. Nobody was coming to drag him before his brother by his ear.

Daring a glance at the files he had gained access to by inputting one of his brother’s passwords, Hec-Tor was surprised to find that there was actually an  _ entire _ database dedicated to the organization of the clones. He picked one of the files at random, and found that it belonged to an Attendant that he didn’t recognize the serial number of. Skimming the file, he found that it was filled with information on the Attendant’s past, who the Supervising Drone was that oversaw his incubation, his overall health, his eventual fate…

… and Hec-Tor’s ears eased forward as a shaky breath left him. He would be able to find out where his old Minders had ended up, after they had left. Anillis had told him that they were better serving their purposes elsewhere, which was why they had decided to leave. And—and he still remembered all of their serial numbers by heart as well. That would have made it easy to find them in the database.

His hands shook as he carefully typed out Nan’s serial number—099-0783—and he held his breath as the database began sorting through the available files. When the database pulled up the file he had been looking for, Hec-Tor’s heart skipped a beat. The file blew up on screen, and he was treated to the sight of Nan’s profile picture. A wave of nostalgia washed over Hec-Tor at the sight of one of his previous Minders. He immediately recognized the scarring that marred half of Nan’s face, but even though he wasn’t smiling, there was still a certain gentleness to his expression. At least, Hec-Tor thought so. His gaze lingered on Nan’s portrait for only a moment more before he turned his attention to the rest of Nan’s profile.

He quickly skimmed over the information he felt was superfluous—Nan’s vitrine and batch numbers, his class, the Supervising Drone who had overseen his incubation—but Hec-Tor paused when he found a sub-section that was simply titled ‘defects’. As he carefully read the section over, Hec-Tor found himself growing more and more confused. Nan was described in his file as having had zero defects when he emerged from his vitrine. Hec-Tor tilted his head to the side, unsure of what exactly that meant.

As his ears began twitching uneasily, his eyes drifted down further, to the section he had been hoping to find…

_ Current Status: Neutralized due to danger posed to Imperial Prince Hec-Tor Kur, and then dissected as part of Project LO at the request of Horde Prime Anillis Kur. _

Hec-Tor could only stare at the screen as his heart stuttered in his chest. Surely— _ surely _ he had misread or—or  _ misunderstood _ . Anillis had told him that Nan and the others had  _ left _ , that they were better fulfilling their purpose elsewhere. He had never said that they had been… been ‘neutralized’ because they posed a threat to him. The notion was ridiculous, anyway. Why would his Minders have been a threat to him? They had always protected and taken care of him.

Surely it was a mistake. His brother wouldn’t have done that…

Carefully, he typed in Doc’s serial number—010-1347—and waited with bated breath. His eyes lingered on Doc’s profile for only a moment before he quickly began scanning over the file. They were largely uniform, save for some obvious differences such as the information listed, like Doc’s specific and batch number, and the Supervising Drone who had overseen his incubation had been different from Nan’s.

But what really struck Hec-Tor was how… _ clinical _ the files seemed to be. There was very little in there that could have actually distinguished his Minders from one another. Even their portraits looked almost exactly the same, when Hec-Tor knew from experience that Nan and Doc could not have been more different from one another. They had even been involved in a week-long argument over something they had disagreed on before they had disappeared. 

Doc’s profile also had the same section for his supposed defects, except Doc had been marked for ‘immediate decommission and transfer’ if his defects happened to manifest themselves. Whatever defects the profile was referring to had been dormant upon Doc’s emergence from his vitrine, where Nan’s had apparently been non-existent to begin with. Taking a deep breath, Hec-Tor dared a glance at Doc’s status, hoping that Nan had just been mislabeled.

_ Neutralized—danger posed to Imperial Prince—dissected—Project LO— _

“No…” Hec-Tor whispered. His hands were shaking so badly as he tried to type in Kurok’s serial number—066-5555—that he had to retype the serial number three times before he finally managed to do it correctly. He barely even skimmed Kurok’s file, his eyes immediately falling to the status section.

_ Neutralized. _

_ Dissected. _

_ Project LO. _

Hec-Tor stared at the last phrase, and he found that it made no sense to him. He didn’t know what Project LO was, he had never heard that uttered once in his life. He had never seen it mentioned anywhere when he was doing archival research, and Anillis certainly had never brought it up… but it was linked to the clones somehow, if his Minders had been…  _ dissected _ as part of it. A shiver ran down his spine at the phrasing, but he gritted his teeth and began typing ‘Project LO’ into the database search next.

He hesitated when he was about to commence the search, though… he might have been searching for something that would have been better left buried. But knowing that his brother had known—and had lied to him—about what had happened to his previous Minders. He had to know, and desperation was fueling him now. He didn’t even care if he was caught digging around for information his brother had decided he was better off not knowing, even though it might have pertained to him.

And so, he allowed the search to commence.

Although he knew that the Archives worked quickly, that only mere seconds had passed between him commencing the search, and the results popping up for him, Hec-Tor still felt as though time had slowed to a halt. His heart was racing in his chest, and he was taking short nervous breaths despite himself. His head was beginning to feel heavy, like it often did when he had overexerted himself—itt often meant the beginning of a fainting spell—but he dug his talons into his palms hard enough to draw blood in an attempt to ground himself again. He would not faint here before finding the information he sought.

When the project file finally popped up, Hec-Tor’s heart leapt into his throat.

_ Project “Little One” _

A cool shiver ran up the back of his spine as he recognized his brother’s pet name for him—it was related to him. His Minders had been—been dissected because of a project related to him. Their ‘defects’ had been listed out on their files, and a sickening thought rose in the back of Hec-Tor’s mind as the dawning realization of what those ‘defects’ might have been hit him. He almost didn’t want to scan the file detailing the project. Bile was beginning to rise in the back of his throat, but he took a deep breath and continued on.

_ Dedicated to the continued health of Imperial Prince Hec-Tor, so that he might one day be whole again. _

He took another far shakier breath as he continued reading on. His eyes only paused when he found the date that Project LO had been initiated.

He had only been six months old, and Anillis would have only been on the throne for five at most.

Feeling his vision swim again, Hec-Tor took a step back from the console, nearly tripping over the skirts of his nightgown. He struggled to keep air in his lungs, and it felt as though his limbs were beginning to go numb. And then, his ears flicked in the direction of the door to the Archives when he heard footsteps out in the hallway.

Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach as he grabbed for the flashdrive he had slotted into the computer, but his hands were shaking so badly he could barely keep hold of it. The thought that the drive hadn’t had enough time to properly transfer over all of the data he had been collecting was barely on the edge of his mind, and he didn’t even bother to shut down the computer as he darted into the shadows of the Archive’s shelves.

A moment later, he heard the telltale whisper of fabric across the floor of the Archives as an Attendant swept into the room and made straight for the console. Hec-Tor lingered for only a moment, just long enough to see the Attendant approach the console and tilt his head to the side. Then, as quietly as possible, Hec-Tor darted from the room and out into the hallway.

While he had been careful on the way in, now Hec-Tor tore down the hallway without paying any heed to who might have seen him. As he rounded the final corner, he wasn’t surprised to see that the elevator doors had remained closed—he hadn’t thought this far ahead. He hadn’t considered how he was going to get  _ out _ of the Archives, only how he was going to get  _ in _ .

When the doors to the elevator did open as he approached, he didn’t skid to a halt, he just kept running, and the Attendant who had been exiting it quickly stepped out of the way as he darted past them. He barely heard the Attendant’s confused and concerned chirp before he slammed his fist onto the button that would have put him back in the Imperial Wing and the doors slid shut behind him.

And then he slid to the floor, trying to keep himself from hyperventilating as tears finally began sliding down his cheeks and the elevator rose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyway stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion of _this_ fic in the verse (:


	8. Part VIII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's the final chapter
> 
> enjoy (:

The timepiece hanging above the door to Hec-Tor’s room chimed, signaling 0800 hours. Despite the softness of the sound, it was far too loud to his ears, grating against his nerves like a coarse sandpaper. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to move from where he was curled up beneath his blankets. His head felt too heavy, like it often did when he had just recovered from a fainting spell. While Hec-Tor had made it back to the Creche without further incident, he hadn’t gotten any sleep. The remainder of his night had been filled with nothing but tossing and turning, dozing for mere moments, and waking in fits and starts. If he had dreamed at all, he couldn’t recall what they had been about. The Creche felt cold around him now, where it normally had always felt warm and safe…

… or perhaps Hec-Tor was just so numb that it didn’t make much of a difference to him anymore.

Hec-Tor didn’t know what he was supposed to do now. Perhaps if he had been able to work up the nerve, he would have gone straight to his brother’s room when he had gotten back from the Archives… but he had been such a wreck that he knew he wouldn’t have been able to string together a coherent sentence, much less demand that Anillis explain himself and why he had lied about what had become of Hec-Tor’s previous Minders.

He still didn’t want to believe that what he had found in the Archives was the truth either. His Minders had never given any kind of indication that they had ever meant him harm. They had always been kind and gentle towards him, reassuring him whenever he was upset and protecting him when he was in danger, taking care of him and keeping him company whenever Anillis was too busy with Imperial matters to do the same.

And that wasn’t even getting into the revelation that his brother had decided to  _ clone him _ when he was a pup. He couldn’t even begin to piece together his questions about that, and he would only have one chance to confront his brother about it. If he failed to word his questions right, then Anillis would just dance around them like he always did…

One of Hec-Tor’s ears gave a half-hearted twitch as he heard the door to his room open, and Caduceus stepped inside. He silently padded across the room and pulled open the curtains that hung around Hec-Tor’s bed. Then, he reached out and lightly threaded his talons through the messy, snow white hair of Hec-Tor’s crest, as he always did in the morning, whether Hec-Tor was awake or not. It was meant as an affectionate gesture, but Hec-Tor hissed anyway, swatting his hand away.

Caduceus drew back in surprise, his ears flicking in confusion. “Hec-Tor, what—”

“Don’t touch me!” Hec-Tor snapped, although his voice came out far shakier than he had meant for it too. He backed himself up against the headboard of his bed, curling up in on himself, and bared his teeth.

The surprise on Caduceus’s face gave way to concern. “Hec-Tor, are you alright?”

“That—That is none of your concern,” Hec-Tor said, but he immediately realized how ridiculous that sounded. Of course it was Caduceus’s concern, ensuring Hec-Tor was alright was literally a facet of his job.

“I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, Hec-Tor,” Caduceus said gently.

Hec-Tor was silent, unsure of what he should say. He knew that he wasn’t very good at hiding his emotions—he wasn’t like Anillis, who was gifted at hiding his thoughts beneath an air of poise and grace. Caduceus would have noticed his change in demeanor regardless of how he had just reacted… and he knew that his Minder was just trying to help. Also, Hec-Tor had never known Caduceus to lie. He might have always told Anillis what was going on within the Creche, but he was always truthful, even if some of the things he said didn’t make much sense to Hec-Tor.

Hec-Tor managed a very shaky breath, but didn’t move from where he was curled up against his headboard. “Did—Did you know?”

Caduceus tilted his head to the side and frowned, not seeming to understand. “… did I know what?”

“About Nan, Doc, and Kurok—about—about  _ everything _ that happens in the labs!” Hec-Tor snapped. A couple of tears escaped, trailing down his cheeks. “Did you know?”

There was a flash of hesitation on Caduceus’s features before he sighed. “It is difficult to  _ not _ know, Hec-Tor,” he admitted, his ears twitching uneasily. “I was born knowing… but the question is how  _ you _ found out about it.”

Hec-Tor opened his mouth, but just as quickly closed it. He didn’t know what to say now. He didn’t want to admit that he had managed to sneak out of his room using the ventilation system after Caduceus had finally turned in for the night. He didn’t want to admit that he had put himself into danger to hunt down information he clearly wasn’t supposed to know. But Caduceus wasn’t looking at him as thought he had done something wrong—he still looked concerned, first and foremost.

“… could you have saved them?” Hec-Tor pressed.

“Hec-Tor, I wasn’t born until after they were dead,” Caduceus said simply, looking decidedly uncomfortable. He had crossed his arms over his chest, and was now refusing to meet Hec-Tor’s gaze. “I couldn’t have done anything for them, regardless, even if I had been alive. Be… be at peace knowing that they continued to serve their purpose, even in death, and that they received the highest honor that could have been bestowed upon them.”

An uncomfortable shiver ran up the back of Hec-Tor’s spine— _ neutralized, dissected _ —and he swallowed the bile that rose in the back of his throat. “… the highest honor,” he repeated slowly, his voice cracking. “And just what is so honorable about being  _ dissected _ ? Were their bodies even cremated afterward?”

Caduceus glanced at him, hesitating, and his ears drew back against the sides of his head. “We are not cremated when we die.”

Hec-Tor’s heart stuttered in his chest. He didn’t want to believe what Caduceus had just said, desperately hoping that he just had misunderstood or misheard. Surely— _ surely _ —Anillis wouldn’t have denied the Minders their afterlives, even if they had actually been seeking to harm Hec-Tor. Nobody deserved to be damned to the Void instead of being allowed to pass on. But he could tell by the look on Caduceus’s face that he hadn’t misspoken.

Hec-Tor felt as though he was going to vomit, and his breath hitched.

Caduceus took a step towards him, his brow pinched in concern.

“Get out—”

“Hec-Tor—”

A few unbidden tears managed to escape, sliding down Hec-Tor’s cheeks. “I said  _ get out _ !”

He  _ immediately _ regretted raising his voice. Hurt flashed across Caduceus’s features and he drew back in surprise. Hec-Tor hadn’t meant to be so loud or sound so angry, he hadn’t meant to  _ hurt  _ the only friend he had on this ship that wasn’t his brother. But his voice had left him entirely, and even though he wanted to apologize, he didn’t get the chance. Caduceus dipped into a stiff half-bow and fled the room without another word.

And Hec-Tor left was alone again with only his own thoughts for company.

Even though he knew he should move, Hec-Tor found that he didn’t have the will to get out of bed and start the day. There was no doubt in his mind that his brother would be expecting them to have breakfast together, and Hec-Tor hated that he suddenly dreaded the thought. Anillis would realize that something was troubling him as soon as he saw him, and Hec-Tor couldn’t lie. His brother always pointed out how terrible he was at it… and in an ironic twist of events, it would seem he wasn’t good at  _ detecting _ lies either. Anillis had been lying to him for years and he had been none the wiser.

More times than Hec-Tor could count, Anillis had been dismissive and refused to give him straight answers, and Hec-Tor had naively assumed that his brother had always had good reasons for not answering his questions. He had thought that perhaps it had been too dangerous for him to know certain things. Knowledge would have put a target on his back, it would have made him vulnerable in the event that one of Anillis’s enemies wanted information but couldn’t get him to talk.

… which was an absolutely  _ ridiculous _ notion now that Hec-Tor actually thought about it, because he had never been permitted to leave the Velvet Glove in the first place.

Hec-Tor took a deep breath, rubbing his eyes with the heel of his hand, and then he rolled out of bed and made his way over to the mirror that sat above his vanity. He hazarded a glance at his reflection and found that his snow white hair was an utter mess, sticking up at odd angles—it was a rather unbecoming look for a prince. With a shaky hand, Hec-Tor mussed it in an attempt to make it lie flat again, only to pause and frown at his reflection. At a glance, he would have mistaken himself for one of the Attendants. He had to tear his gaze away.

It was as though he could no longer recognize himself. Caduceus’s face was the one staring back at him, and the only tell that Hec-Tor was indeed looking at his reflection were his bright red eyes.

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Hec-Tor stole a glance back to his reflection again, and ran his talons through his hair. His brother had always commented on how beautiful it was. Both of them had inherited Father’s pure white hair, and when Hec-Tor was a pup, he had liked how he and Anillis had matched. But now that he was older, Hec-Tor wasn’t entirely sure that he actually liked the white as much as he thought he had when he was a pup. Now, he would have preferred something darker, closer to their uncle’s dark blue. Mussing his hair again, Hec-Tor drew another breath and stepped back from the mirror.

… he could make his hair a different color if he could just find something to—to stain it for a time. Hastily, he looked around the room, feeling a panic overtake him. His gaze fell upon the desk on the far side of the room, where he had tinkered with projects before he had been given his sanctum. There was a half-finished project still sitting on it, from a couple of weeks ago when he had been cloistered away in the Creche due to a fainting spell. A small tin of oil was still sitting on the desk… that could probably stain his hair. It was by no means an elegant solution but… Hec-Tor’s stomach flipped as he thought of his reflection again.  _ Anything _ to make him look even the slightest bit different.  _ Anything _ that meant he wouldn’t be mistaking his own face for that of his Minder.

Quickly, he moved over to the desk and plucked up the tin. The oil slid across his fingers like sludge, and with shaking hands, he combed his fingers through his hair, trying to coat every single strand that he could. His ears were pricked as he worked, suddenly nervous that his brother would have realized what he was doing and burst into his room to scold him for his irrational behavior. His breath hitched and his eyes began to burn again.

It was  _ his _ hair, he could do what he wanted with it, and Anillis’s feeling on the matter could be damned for all he cared.

When he felt that his hair was well coated, Hec-Tor returned over to the mirror and nervously looked at his reflection… and he looked an utter mess. His hair was far more streaky than solidly colored. The oil had smudged across his cheeks, running in lines down the sides of his head, and he had gotten some on the tips of one of his ears, right where Caduceus’s masking had never come in fully. There were differences, but it wasn’t enough…

Nothing he ever did was going to be enough. He would  _ never _ be able to look in the mirror and see his face as his own.

His fist connected with the mirror before he even realized what had happened. Pain shot up his arm, and he stood there, his shoulders shaking as he stared at the fissures emanating out from where his fist had connected with the mirror. His face was split across the pane of glass, and a dozen bright red eyes stared back at him.

One tear fell, and then another, and another and another… and Hec-Tor slid to the floor beside his vanity, clutching his bleeding hand close to his chest.

“By the Light.”

When Hec-Tor glanced up, he found that Caduceus was standing in the doorway to his room, staring at him with wide, citrine green eyes. This time, however, Hec-Tor didn’t snap at him or tell him to go away—he no longer wanted to be alone. Caduceus crossed the room as if he was on autopilot, and carefully knelt down beside Hec-Tor, drawing his hand away from his chest with a gentle hold on his wrist.

“Oh, Hec-Tor…” Caduceus sighed, although there wasn’t a hint of anger in his voice. He glanced at the shattered mirror, his ears flicking nervously against the sides of his head. “… what happened?”

Hec-Tor shook his head, feeling a couple more tears escape and slide down his cheeks. He could barely manage to find his voice, but when he did speak, it wasn’t to explain himself. “I’m sorry—I—I shouldn’t have yelled—”

Caduceus uttered a soft, soothing chirp as he carefully threaded his talons through Hec-Tor’s hair. Feeling the oil beneath his fingertips, Caduceus glanced at the mess that was Hec-Tor’s crest but didn’t comment on it. “I am not angry with you,” he said reassuringly. “But I need to clean your hand so it doesn’t get infected… I’ll be back in a moment. Wait here.”

Clutching his hand close to his chest, Hec-Tor managed a nod, and he wordlessly watched as Caduceus hurried from the room, disappearing back out in the Creche. Now, his hand was in agony, and he glanced down at the damage he hadn’t even meant to inflict upon himself. It was still bleeding and he could barely move it without pain splitting across his knuckles. How could he have been so  _ stupid _ ?

It didn’t take long for Caduceus to return, carrying what appeared to be a bottle of antiseptic, a washcloth, bandages, and a pair of tweezers. He helped Hec-Tor stand up and moved him to sit at the stool in front of the vanity. A wave of exhaustion had come over Hec-Tor, and he allowed Caduceus to move him without a fuss.

“Here, let me see,” Caduceus said gently as he carefully took hold of Hec-Tor’s wrist and brought his hand close so that he could get a good look at the damage. When he found a piece of glass, he carefully began picking it out of Hec-Tor’s hand with tweezers.

Hec-Tor hiccuped, and he could only sit there, shoulders shaking as Caduceus did his work.

“Do you remember what I said yesterday morning, Hec-Tor?” Caduceus asked as he dropped another piece of glass into a small dish. The glass landed there with a  _ clink _ that was much too loud to Hec-Tor’s ears. “Deep breaths…” Caduceus continued. “It will pass…”

“No, it won’t…” Hec-Tor managed to mumble in between his gasps. He sucked down a harsh breath, and in his frustration, knocked aside one of the vials of perfume that had been sitting on the vanity. It flew across the room, shattering when it struck the nearby wall. Hec-Tor immediately regretted it too, and hissed under his breath.

“ _ Hec-Tor _ ,” Caduceus said, more firmly this time. Hec-Tor braced himself for a scolding about how he should have ‘minded his temper’ because that’s what Anillis  _ always _ said whenever Hec-Tor was having a ‘tantrum’. The scolding, however, never came. “Deep breaths…” Caduceus repeated instead. “You’re going to pass out if you don’t breathe.”

They sat in silence for a good long while as Caduceus continued picking pieces of glass out of Hec-Tor’s hand, and Hec-Tor tried to bring his breathing under control. Hec-Tor didn’t know what he could say to start a conversation, although he wasn’t sure it was needed. Caduceus wasn’t angry with him—he had said so himself—and that meant the situation should have been resolved. But when he glanced back at the shattered mirror and saw a dozen eyes reflected back at him, he knew that there was still so much left unsaid. He had almost forgotten that he would likely be meeting with his brother this morning…

“… Caduceus?” Hec-Tor asked tentatively.

Caduceus plucked a rather large shard of glass out of Hec-Tor’s hand and placed it carefully into the dish alongside the others. “Yes, Hec-Tor?”

“Do you think I should—that I should…” Hec-Tor trailed off, not quite sure how to word his train of thought. “ _ How _ do you think I should—”

“I am not meant to have opinions on what you should and should not do, Hec-Tor,” Caduceus reminded him. Though Hec-Tor half-hoped he had meant it as a joke, there was no humor in his voice.

Hec-Tor tried not to think about how Doc had  _ always _ had opinions and was very vocal about them. “Can’t you humor me… please?”

Caduceus was silent for a moment, his mouth set in a hard line. He carefully set the tweezers and dish to the side and picked up the anti-septic, and Hec-Tor didn’t miss the flash of fear in his eyes. However, after a moment, his gaze softened again and he sighed, but nodded. “Very well…”

“How… how— _ should _ I even talk to Anillis about this?” Hec-Tor asked, his ears twitching nervously against the sides of his head. “If I bring it up, he’s just going to be dismissive and try to change the conversation—I  _ know _ that’s what he’s going to do, because that’s what he  _ always _ does.”

“Horde Prime can be very… touchy,” Caduceus said carefully, as though he was worried about possibly offending Hec-Tor for speaking ill of Anillis. However, Hec-Tor noticed the set of his ears, how they were perked and held a confident air. “… however, if you believe you cannot live without confronting him, I think that perhaps you should. It might be… cathartic for you.”

Hec-Tor hummed softly in response as Caduceus lightly dabbed antiseptic on his knuckles, and then carefully wrapped a bandage around his hand.

“Alright, you should be fine,” Caduceus said as he carefully tied the bandage off.

“… thanks,” Hec-Tor mumbled.

Caduceus dipped his head before glancing over to the broken vial of perfume that was sitting on the floor. Without a word, he crossed the room and began cleaning up the mess. “As soon as I’m done here, we can get you ready for the day.”

“I can do that—” Hec-Tor began.

“It is my job description, Hec-Tor,” Caduceus retorted as he carefully plucked the larger pieces of glass off of the floor. “Do not step over here… you are not wearing shoes, and believe me, stepping on glass will hurt a lot more than having it lodged in your hand.”

—

Nearly an hour later, Hec-Tor stood before the door to the dining room. He had been dressed to near perfection—though, try as he might, Caduceus hadn’t been able to get all the staining out of Hec-Tor’s hair. It had been left a rather distasteful shade of rusty brown. Caduceus had tried to reassure him that it would fade away in the coming weeks, as if that was supposed to make Hec-Tor feel any better. He would look different for a couple of weeks and then he’d be right back to where he started. Identical to every single Attendant aboard the ship…

As Caduceus approached the palm scanner beside the door, Hec-Tor clutched the flashdrive he had in his hand that much tighter. He took a deep breath in through his nasal ridge and then let it out through his mouth. He could do this… he could confront Anillis about his lies. It would be easy, he had all the evidence he needed to prove his point.

The door to the dining room slid open and when Caduceus offered Hec-Tor his arm again, Hec-Tor reached and took it. Cautiously, he peered through the doorway to see Anillis was sitting at the head of the table, as he often did. However, he attention was fixated on whatever paperwork was laid out in front of him—if Hec-Tor had to guess, it was something to do with the Expansion Edge or the production of more shock troopers. He had completed the design, so Anillis just needed to implement it.

“… Anillis?” Hec-Tor spoke up tentatively as he was led into the room by Caduceus.

Anillis, however, didn’t respond. His ears didn’t even move in the direction of Hec-Tor’s voice to indicate that he had heard him and was listening. He seemed to be much too focused on his work, and hadn’t even noticed Hec-Tor’s arrival.

Hec-Tor’s ears flicked in irritation as he and Caduceus paused beside his chair. “Anillis!” he said, more sharply this time.

At that, Anillis’s own ears flicked in surprise before a smile graced his features. However, he didn’t immediately look up from his work. “Well, I must say, I was beginning to worry—” When he did finally glance up at Hec-Tor, his eyes widened in surprise. His eyes darted first to the mess of Hec-Tor’s crest and then the bandaging around his knuckles. And then all four eyes narrowed as he turned his glare onto Caduceus. “What happened to his hair? And his  _ hand _ ?!”

Hec-Tor very nearly responded to the question himself, but Caduceus stepped forward before he could. “Hec-Tor was… upset when I checked on him this morning, your Grace,” he said quickly, before he dipped his head. “But he has inflicted no lasting damage on himself. His hair is merely stained and it will fade in a few weeks… and his hand needs time to heal.”

“Hec-Tor, must have another talk about your—your  _ dramatics _ ?” Anillis questioned as he rose from his seat, his paperwork forgotten. “You could have grievously injured yourself. What were you thinking?!”

Without a word, Hec-Tor approached the dining room table, and carefully slotted the flashdrive into the port that was at the center of the table. A projection lit up before his very eyes, casting the room in a cool green light. The information that had popped up first was the file that he had initially found of Nan, and when he turned back to look at his brother, he found that Anillis’s expression had shifted completely.

All four of his eyes had widened a fraction as he stared at the projection in front of him, and his voice seemed to have left him entirely. It was one of the first times in his life that Hec-Tor had seen his brother truly at a loss for words.

“… when were you going to tell me that the Attendants were taken from  _ my _ genetics?” Hec-Tor questioned, and he was relieved to find that his voice didn’t sound at all meek.

However, it didn’t amount to much. Anillis recovered his composure fare more quickly than Hec-Tor would have liked, and his jaw twitched as he forced a smile. “Oh, come now, Hec-Tor,” he said with a dismissive flick of his ears. “Here I had assumed you had figured out what your Minders were years ago.”

Hec-Tor’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click. Of course he had known. It was rather hard to miss when every single servant aboard the ship wore the exact same face. But when he had asked, Anillis had always fed him the same spiel over and over again in place of a true explanation for their existence.

He would  _ understand _ in time. Well, he had found out why they existed and he still didn’t understand.

“Well—Well, I didn’t,” Hec-Tor finally managed to say, unable to come up with an actual witty retort that might have thrown Anillis off enough to give him an edge. “I thought they were clones of you, my masking hadn’t come in yet, and you never bothered to explain anything to me. What was I supposed to think?”

Anillis ignored the question, and his gaze once again darted over to Caduceus, who had backed away and was now lingering on the far side of the room. “… and just  _ how _ did you find out about this?”

“He didn’t take me down there,” Hec-Tor said sharply, drawing his brother’s gaze back to him. “ _ You  _ weren’t giving me answers, so I found them myself.”

Anillis sighed, and his expression shifted again, to one of manicured ease. “Well, you read the files. You should know why they exist now.”

While Hec-Tor knew his brother probably meant for that to be comforting, his gut twisted again as he recalled what he had read— _ neutralized, dissected _ —and he doubted that he’d ever be able to set foot in the labs again without feeling the compulsion to vomit, even if he was allowed down there again. Anills had been using  _ his _ genetics for medical experimentation since he was barely even six months old, and he was killing them and not allowing them to have their afterlives and—and he could barely even look Caduceus in the eye anymore, even though Caduceus had practically raised him for much of his childhood.

Anillis reached out to fiddle with Hec-Tor’s hair, as he often did, while seeming unconcerned about how quiet Hec-Tor was being. “Honestly, little one, what am I going to do with you?” he asked offhandedly. “I suppose this staining will be gone in a few weeks anyway, though, and then this  _ phase _ you’re going through can be over and done with—”

“And what if  _ I _ liked it?” Hec-Tor said haughtily, jerking his head away from Anillis’s touch and taking a step back. “It’s  _ my _ hair, I can do what I want with it!”

“Hec-Tor, why are you being so dramatic?” Anillis questioned.

“ _ Stop _ calling me dramatic!” Hec-Tor snapped back at him. “You cannot even  _ begin _ to understand what this feels like—”

Anillis’s ears flicked in anger as his lip curled. “Hec-Tor, that is  _ enough _ !”

“You’re not  _ listening _ to me!” Hec-Tor said. “How am I ever supposed to look in the mirror without seeing the face of every single Minder who raised me? How could you possibly think I’d be content with that?!”

“You were born with a foot already in the grave!” Anillis snarled. “I had to watch Father  _ die _ , Hec-Tor! He took his final breath as you choked down your first. What was I supposed to do? Just let you die too?!”

Any further arguments died in Hec-Tor’s throat, and a couple of tears escaped, rolling down his cheeks. He knew how deeply his brother had been affected by the deaths of their parents… it had been years before Anillis had finally told him that their father had died delivering him. It had taken even longer for Anillis to admit that Hec-Tor had been so sickly at birth that the doctors had said it would have been a miracle if he had survived infancy. Hec-Tor had never felt the same grief that Anillis always had, though, and to this day, he felt some latent sense of guilt over it.

Anillis took a deep breath, recomposing himself. “Hec-Tor, I couldn’t lose you too… and—and that project has helped you. Eventually it might even cure you,” he continued, stepping closer to Hec-Tor again, and reaching out to gently cup Hec-Tor’s cheek in his hand. “I had already lost so much, and the thought of you, my precious baby brother, dying was unthinkable.”

Hec-Tor leaned into the touch, wanting to feel some semblance of comfort and safety again. But he knew that wasn’t possible, and a couple more tears escaped. “… if I  _ had _ died, I would have rejoined Father after my funerary rites. He would have taken care of me, Ani…” he said softly, stepping away from Anillis again.

Anillis’s ears flicked in confusion. “Hec-Tor—”

“I would never wish being damned to the Void on anyone, Anillis,” Hec-Tor continued. “So why did you decide to damn the Minders?”

“Oh, little one…” Anillis said, not seeming concerned. “They were only clones.”

Hec-Tor’s body stiffened and he felt his throat begin to constrict. “… what did you say?” he whispered. When his brother remained silent, Hec-Tor knew that he had his answer. He felt lightheaded, like he always did when a fainting spell was coming on, and he had no way to control it or prevent it from happening. Taking a deep breath, Hec-Tor squared his shoulders as more tears fell, and he added, “Is that what you think of them?!”

“Hec-Tor—” Anillis began in a warning tone.

“I wasn’t done speaking!” Hec-Tor hissed. “They were not  _ only clones _ ! They took care of me when  _ you _ were too busy being Horde Prime to take care of me! They played with me when  _ you _ didn’t allow me to have any friends my own age! They were my only friends for my entire life! And you have the  _ audacity _ to tell me that they were only clones!”

“Hec-Tor, that is  _ enough _ ,” Anillis said. “We can finish this discussion after you stop being so—”

“Anillis, just—just  _ stop _ !” Hec-Tor spat, and then he lurched, bumping into the side of the dining room table. His head was spinning and his breath was coming out too quickly to keep air properly in his lungs. He could feel the fainting spell coming on in earnest now, and his talons dug into the surface of the table in an attempt to keep himself grounded. “Stop insisting that I’m being dramatic when you had the only friends I’ve ever had in my life  _ neutralized _ because—because  _ what _ ? You perceived them as dangerous?! And the worst part of it is, I can’t even trust you to give me a straight answer!”

He leaned heavily against the side of the table, his back to his brother. One of his ears flicked as he heard Anillis sigh and softly and approach him. One of Anillis’s hands lightly rested against his back, rubbing in a circle. Ordinarily, Hec-Tor might have found the gesture soothing.

“I am not your enemy in this, little one…” Anillis said in a soft, lilting tone as though he meant to put Hec-Tor at ease again.”I only have your best interests at heart…”

His touch receded, and Hec-Tor let out a shaky breath as he tried to calm himself down again—deep breaths, just like Caduceus had told him. He wanted nothing more than to return to the Creche right now, to get away from his brother and be allowed time to think.

“… remember that,” Anillis added.

Hec-Tor was about to ask what Anillis meant when he was suddenly grabbed by the neck. Hec-Tor squirmed in Anillis’s hold, letting out a confused chirp as Anillis lifted him so that his toes barely touched the ground. His eyes widened as he watched the cables that rested in the docks along Anillis’s collar and rose into the air, framing his head like vipers poised to strike.

“ _ Anillis _ —”

However, Anillis said nothing. His mouth set in a hard line, and his grip on Hec-Tor’s neck tightened to keep him still. And then the needled end of one of the cables plunged into the base of Hec-Tor’s neck, where all of the clones had their ports. Hec-Tor shrieked, but the will to fight left him completely. A fog passed over his mind, and his expression went blank.

And then he slipped through Horde Prime’s fingers, and collapsed to the floor.

—

When Hec-Tor next awoke, it felt as though his head had been split open.

While it was not uncommon for him to feel terrible after a fainting spell, as it would often collapse as a result, it didn’t usually feel this bad. His entire body ached as if he had been worked within an inch of his life and hadn’t been allowed the opportunity to rest. And that was all he found he wanted to do. Go back to sleep and continue resting… but he forced himself to sit up anyway.

Or rather, he  _ attempted _ to sit up. His head swam as he did so and bile rose in the back of his throat. He collapsed back onto his bed a moment later, letting out a soft, pained groan.

“Hec-Tor—”

One of his ears flicked at the sound of his brother’s voice, and Hec-Tor weakly tried to open his eyes against the too-harsh light of his bedroom. The curtains around his bed had been mostly drawn, but Hec-Tor found that Prime was sitting in a chair beside his bed. There was a worried pinch to his brow as he leaned forward in his seat, reaching to lightly begin checking Hec-Tor over.

“How are you feeling?” Prime asked.

“Like I’ve been run over…” Hec-Tor grumbled, closing his eyes again as he collapsed back into his pillows. He wanted nothing more than to go back to sleep right now. Perhaps if he slept, this ache in his head would go away. However, he also knew that Prime was not going to leave him be until he was certain that Hec-Tor was alright.

“… what happened?” Hec-Tor asked tentatively, glancing at Prime again.

Prime hesitated for a moment, seeming deeply troubled—a rarity for him. Then, he took a deep breath and glanced away. “You fainted again, Hec-Tor… when we were talking earlier? You hit your head on the table on your way down.”

Even though his head was only beginning to feel worse, Hec-Tor tried to parse his memory—it was so patchy, but that wasn’t unusual following a fainting spell. He often failed to remember what had caused the onset, although it was usually related to him becoming too emotional. However, in spite of the spottiness he did recall that he had been angry about something Prime had said to him, and he knew that it had something to do with his Minders…

“We were talking about my Minders…” Hec-Tor said carefully, and a sense of unease came over him. Prime never liked talking about his previous Minders, so why—

“Yes,” Prime said, dipping his head once. “I had been trying to tell you that they had been plotting to kidnap you, and I was forced to act before something terrible happened to you.”

That didn’t sound right—his Minders wouldn’t have done that to him. But he also shifted uncomfortably, well aware that he couldn’t have said that for sure. It wasn’t as though they were around so that he could ask them, and his brother had always told him that he was needlessly trusting. “… you told me that they were better serving their purposes elsewhere.”

“And they did, little one,” Prime reassured him, reaching out to lightly thread his talons through Hec-Tor’s crest. “I told you that they had left to spare your feelings… you were so fond of them, and I do not like seeing you so upset. You’re prone to fainting then…”

Hec-Tor’s ears drooped. “Is that why my head feels like it’s been split open?” he asked softly, reaching up to rub at his temple, where the pain was the strongest. He felt stitches beneath his fingertips and his vision swam again, and then he dry heaved over the side of the bed.

“You must  _ relax _ , little one…” Prime said, and his tone was far more gentle than Hec-Tor had heard it in a very long time. “And do not touch those stitches. You’ll open them up and have to restart the whole process all over again.”

“Is that where I hit my head?” Hec-Tor asked as he settled again.

Prime gave a curt nod. “Which is why it is imperative that you stay in bed and  _ rest _ until 001-11992 clears you.”

Hec-Tor glanced over to the other side of the room, even though it caused his vision to swim again. Caduceus was standing there, with his back to the two of them as he fiddled with some of Hec-Tor’s things, moving them around and dusting. He actively avoided looking at Hec-Tor even when he passed by the foot of the bed and disappeared from the room, out into the main Creche area.

“… how long will that be?” Hec-Tor asked, fiddling with the fraying edge of his blanket and avoiding his brother’s gaze. He didn’t want to be stuck in bed for too long, he had other things to do.

“At least a week,” Prime said beforing motioning to Hec-Tor’s temple with his ears. “I will not have you overexerting yourself and reopening those stitches, Hec-Tor.”

Hec-Tor frowned and was about to argue, but something in Prime’s expression made his fight leave him. “Can I at least have something to read wile I’m stuck here?” he asked, looking at his brother hopefully. “That would be just as good, I think…”

Prime hesitated, before he nodded. “If that is what you want, then I will see to it…” he promised before he dipped his head and gently bumped their foreheads together. Even though his head still ached, Hec-Tor smiled as Prime sat back in his seat again.

“Now, sleep well…” Prime added.

A heaviness settled over Hec-Tor’s head again, and he was out before his head even hit his pillow. He didn’t know how much time had passed when he awoke later, but he could only assume it had been several hours. The lights had dimmed considerably and were less grating to his eyes. A couple of books were now sitting on his nightstand, even though Prime had disappeared from the chair that sat beside Hec-Tor’s bed…

… Caduceus, however, was there on the far side of the room, cleaning with shaking hands.

“Cadu—” Hec-Tor coughed harshly before he could finish speaking, his throat was so dry. But his head ached far less than than it had when he had originally woken up earlier. That was comforting, at least.

When Hec-Tor spoke, Caduceus spun around, and there was a flash of something in his eyes that Hec-Tor couldn’t identify… there was horror—sorrow—pity—and then Caduceus took a deep breath, and the emotions swirling around in his citrine green eyes were completely absent again. He looked almost serene, his mouth set in a hard line as he seemed to be forcing himself to appear neutral. There was still a stiffness to his posture and the set of his ears that gave away his unease, though.

“How are you feeling, my Prince?” Caduceus asked as he approached Hec-Tor’s bedside. He reached out, as though he was going to pet Hec-Tor’s hair, only to hesitate. His hands instead dropped and he carefully began making sure Hec-Tor was comfortably tucked in. “Do you need anything?”

“… water,” Hec-Tor managed to say, his voice raspier than normal. “And I’d like to stretch my legs a little bit… I feel stiff.”

Caduceus hesitated, but relented almost immediately. “A quick lap around the room, a glass of water, and then back to bed,” he stated firmly. “I will not have you reopening those stitches. Horde Prime would—” he cut himself off and sighed. And then, without another word, he ducked down and helped Hec-Tor stand, taking care so that Hec-Tor was leaning most of his weight against Caduceus’s side.

They said nothing to one another as they made their way around the room, but Hec-Tor didn’t really have the energy to try and make conversation. He was too tired, too drained from what he assumed—based on the reactions of both his brother and his Minder—had been a rather traumatic injury to his head. With the amount of stitches there, he was lucky to be alive… the wound seemed to go rather deep. As they made their way past the bathroom, Hec-Tor noticed a flick of something in his peripheral vision, and he stole a glance at the mirror as they passed by the doorway.

His own reflection stared back at him… citrine green eyes and all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the first chapter of the sequel should hopefully be out soonish, so don't worry i won't leave y'all on this cliffhanger for too long

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: [revasnaslan](https://revasnaslan.tumblr.com/)  
> twitter: [revasnaslan](https://twitter.com/revasnaslan)


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